Power, Pleasure, Pain
by annieDD
Summary: The story of a young lady, Clara Tyrell, sister of Willas, Margaery and Loras Tyrell. How will Clara fit into this world? What could her role be? How many secrets does she know and can she play the game? Starts about a year before the War of the Five Kings. Rated M. Pairing... you'll see :)
1. Chapter 1

**Hello there and welcome to my story. A little warning at first.  
I was not planning on writing a new story, not yet. I tried to ignore it but I couldn't keep this idea away from me. I think it is a change. I've seen many Baratheon, Lannister OC's (hell, I wrote some of them. Check out "Running up that hill" if you haven't already; my RobbxOC story) but a Tyrell OC is not a popular choice, I think.  
As someone who knows both the books and the show, I feel as if the Tyrells are seriously underappreciated. Especially Willas, who doesn't even appear in the show. And with the season 6 finale, we all know how that ended…  
So, this is my story. This is all I wrote so far and whether or not I continue depends on the reaction. I hope it goes down well, as I would love to continue with is.  
That is why I want you to tell me what you think. Don't be shy; if anything bothers you, say it. If you have an idea, share it. I'm open for anything and I think (I THINK) I know how to handle criticism.  
And now, a little bit about the story.  
Clara Tyrell, younger sister of Willas Tyrell and older sister of Loras and Margaery Tyrell. Her age would be 19-20.  
It starts before the War of the Five Kings; perhaps a year or so before S01E01, to be precise. So, all is good in Westeros when our story starts.  
Knowing myself, I will definitely make this a love story as well, not just a story of a family and one girl. However, I have NO CLUE who I should pair her with. Any ideas are welcome :)  
Yup, disclaimer time: I own nothing! *Ha, get it? Jon Snow?*  
It all belongs to George R. R. Martin and HBO, all apart from Clara Tyrell.  
That would be it. I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think and let's see if I should continue this or not, shall we?**

A bang, a mumbled curse word and the sound of something metal repeatedly hitting the stone floor.

I jump, awake and alert, blinking rapidly as I try to push the sleep away. Still shocked and barely aware of my surroundings it does not take me long to realize what had happened. My handmaiden had chosen a not so elegant way of waking me up when she knocked down a goblet from my writing desk.

"Gods be good, Maya," I sigh, taking a deep breath. "You almost made my heart stop with that noise."

"My apologies, my lady," She tells me, looking both apologetic and frightened, as if she was waiting for an outburst of anger from my direction. "The more I try to be quiet, the more noise I make."

"It's quite alright, Maya. My heart is still beating," I reassure her; she breathes out a sigh of relief as I fall back on the bed, groaning. "Oh, I am not ready for this day to start. Why are nights so short, Maya?"

"So that we could do more during the day," she replies, giving me a warm smile. I roll my eyes at her, which makes her laugh. Maya has been with me for years now. I might have a large family but I do not have many friends and Maya here is the closest thing I have to a friend. With her around, I have no trouble with being myself; eye rolls and complaining included. "Complain all you'd like, my lady. It will not get any easier."

"And don't I know it," I sigh as I get up, realizing I could not stay in bed all day, no matter how much I wanted to. "Now, where do I need to be this morning?"

"Your Lady Grandmother has invited you to join her for breakfast."

"Of course she has," I sigh, yet again, as I throw my legs over the side of the bed and stand up; slowly, I stretch my arms and legs in every direction, shaking the sleep away. "Well, you said so yourself Maya; it is not going to get any easier. I might as well just take it as it comes."

I almost fall asleep while Maya is doing my hair; years of practice has left her touch gentle, no matter how tight the braids end up being. With my hair pulled back and a lovely, light, blue gown, I make my way through the castle corridors, preparing myself for what is to come.

I should have stayed in bed. I am not rested enough to deal with my Grandmother, especially not this early in the day. One could handle my Grandmother only in limited amounts. Minimal amounts, if possible. Alas, I was not lucky enough to escape her today.

"Clara!" a voice carries through the hallway and I stop in my tracks, recognizing it immediately; I turn and wait for my brother to join me, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek when he does.

"I see she is gathering all of us," I sigh as we link our arms and continue our walk towards Grandmother's chambers. "I wonder what she has in store for us now."

"Probably another diplomatic mission," my brother complains, sounding as irritated as I felt. I keep my pace normal, as I know how much it bothers him when I slow down because of him; he prefers to struggle to catch up with me, whilst having a firm grip on the wooden cane in his right hand.

"Do you believe they would want to send us anywhere again after Dorne?" I ask.

"No, probably not," He replies through laughter. "However, they might not have a choice. Perhaps they just want to keep us away from home during the tournament." He suggests.

"And what good would that do?" I ask him, confused.

"Keep appearances," he smiles down at me. "You have to admit it, little sister. Our family appears much grander without the cripple and the rebel daughter."

"Cripple and an heir," I remind him, annoyed. Just as he always did, Willas continued to belittle himself. Only a few things can bother me as much as that does, since Willas is, without a doubt in my mind, the kindest and smartest man I have ever met. "If they plan to organize this whole parade of wealth and power, they need the whole family here to do so. Even the cripple and the rebel." I add.

"At least they have two other children to parade instead of us." He smiles at me.

It has always been like this, _always._ I am the middle child, with Willas being older than I am by three years and Loras and Margaery following me. I love both Loras and Margaery with all my heart and there is very little that I wouldn't do for them. That being said, no one, _no one,_ could ever come close to Willas and the bond we have. Ever since we were children, we were inseparable; partners in crime from the very start. My sister and I can have a true heart to heart conversation and yes, I would trust her with my secrets, but in my heart, she will never come close to Willas.

The same goes for the two of them, as well. As much as we get along, it has always been the two of us and then the two of them. Loras and Margaery were just as inseparable as we were. No conflicts have ever risen between the four of us, but if such a thing were to happen, we all know who we would stand with, whose side we would take.

"Easy now, brother," I warn him with a smile. "They are not yet done with us, I am afraid."

"Ah, how difficult it is, not being a favorite child." he sighs, pretending to be saddened by this; I laugh and shake my head, knowing that humor might just be the only way for us to not be saddened by it. Besides, it is all we've ever known. Willas might have a memory of a time when it was different, but I do not. For me it is easy, since this truly is all I've ever known.

We had to stop complaining, as we approached Grandmother's chambers. She was sitting on the balcony, as she always does. Her wine did not wait for the two of us, however.

"Good morning." I say as I lean down to kiss her on the cheek, stepping aside to let Willas do the same.

"Do you ever wear any other color?" She asks me, shaking her head in dismay. "Blue, blue, blue. One would think you were one of the Tully's or Arryn's when they look at you."

"If I wore a darker color, you would complain that I look like a ghost."

"Yes,because you would." She agrees, making both WIllas and I laugh as we shake our heads.

"Oh, my dearest Grandmother. I will never quite be good enough, will I?"

"Nonsense," she shakes her head, as if she was insulted at the mere thought of that. "You are a Tyrell. You are good enough by birth," She tells me, her voice loud and proud. I notice Willas looking away, trying to hold back a chuckle. "However, green or gold would be a more appropriate color for your dresses. And lower cuts, if I might add. You have a good body; it is a shame to hide it."

"Grandmother, please, I do not wish to be a part of this conversation." Willas jumps in.

"Men," Grandmother mumbles, frowning at her eldest grandson. "All women are good to look at, so long as they are not your own kin. Gods forbid if anyone looks at them."

"I have no problem with men looking at Clara, if that is what you are implying," Willas tells her as he takes his seat, opposite of me, with our Grandmother sitting as the head of the table. "I simply do not wish to have that pointed out to me, every time it happens."

"And I agree," I speak up. "The cuts on my dresses are low enough as it is; if they were to be any lower, I am afraid that men would be looking at me for all the wrong reasons."

"Please, stop." Willas tells me, staring blankly at me.

"Enough," Grandmother speaks up; the way she spoke now made it sound as if it was us who came up with this subject, not her. "Easy on the blue. Not Arryn, not Tully. Tyrell." She reminds me.

"Oh, how could I ever forget?"

…

The weather is absolutely wonderful today and as I lean on the balcony, I realize I never should have wanted to stay in bed; handling my Grandmother in the early morning was a small price to pay. The wind played with my hair as I looked before me, holding my cup full of wine; my Grandmother could make a thirsty man pass a lake without looking at the water twice; convincing someone to drink wine this early in the day was child's play to her.

I barely listen to her and Willas. Slowly, their voices become fainter as I focus on the sight in front of me. My home. My beautiful, precious home.

I have travelled plenty of times in my twenty years. I did not explore every corner of this land, but I have seen more than most do and I am yet to find a place that could take Highgarden from my heart.

King's Landing was a beautiful city, but if you marvel at its beauty for long enough, you will recognize the smell of rotting litter as it fills your nostrils. Dorne was beautiful, but if you stay in the sun for long enough, all of its beauty will become unbearable. Highgarden? Highgarden was perfect.

Our streets were spotless, our people well fed and well entertained; many singers enter our walls and choose to stay. We had the sun here as well, but we also had shade, if shade was needed. Warmth but followed by a gentle wind. And endless fields of green.

The castle walls looked like a waterfall of greenery. Walls, walls and more walls, like staircases, all covered in ivy and climbing roses. Stories and fairytales could not describe a place more magical than the place I call home.

"Clara? Are you even listening to us?" I hear my Grandmother ask in a sharp tone.

"Of course I am," I lie, hoping she would not question me further. "The tournament, the noble houses joining us… Nothing new, I am afraid." I smile.

"You, child, will be the death of me," Grandmother sighs. "You do not understand how important this is. This will be a perfect opportunity for our House to form alliances or to strengthen the existing ones. That will not happen if you look like you would prefer to be tortured than to have a conversation with someone. You do not understand the gravity of the situation, my dear."

"Grandmother, I do," I say as I walk around the table and take a seat on her left side. "I understand. I know I am not… what any of you hoped me to be. Until I was ten years old, I thought my name was "what are we to do with you". I would not embarrass you." I reassure her, tired of doing so. For years now, I have reassured her and both of my parents that I will never put our House's good name under threat. For some reason, they seem to think that that is exactly what I will do.

"You do not understand," she shakes her head at me. "Loras and Margaery are like steel. They are strong and well appreciated. But they can be shaped. They can be molded to one's liking. You? You are like valyrian steel. And you as well," she adds, looking at my brother. "The two of you are strong yet light. And not anyone could shape you. Loras and Margaery? They are perfect. But I made them perfect."

Grandmother was never shy with her opinions. I grew up knowing that all of them, including her, preferred Margaery. To be fair on them, I did not blame them. If I was in a different position than the one I am in now, I would prefer her as well. I do feel loved by them, even by my ever so honest Grandmother. That is why their favoritism toward my sister never really bothered me.

Hearing her say something like this was a first. I couldn't help but feel proud.

"Grandmother, you know we never did you wrong," Willas smiles at her. "We do our best."

"Yes, except your little expedition to Dorne," She raises her eyebrow at him. "I did not forget about that."

"And you never will," I sigh, shaking my head at her. "It has been more than a year. We returned alive and well. Is it not the perfect time to leave that be?"

"No, it is not," She shakes her head. "The two of you changed your travel plans without bothering to inform us and went directly into the lair of our enemy. If you had any idea how close that father of yours was to starting a war, you never would have done it."

"Grandmother, we are alive and well and they are not our enemies." Willas tells her.

"Yes, they are," Grandmother fights back. "I do not blame the Red Viper for doing what he did to you," Grandmother sighs and I notice Willas growing uncomfortable. He does not like discussing that, not even with me. We have made a silent pact to ignore that story, just as we did with his bad leg. Our lovely Grandmother, however, is not the one to stay silent. "He did not do it on purpose. If anyone is to blame, it is the dimwit Father of yours."

"Grandmother, please," Willas begs her. "There is nothing left to discuss."

"They are enemies because of what they did afterwards."

"They are not," I speak up. "It is because of us that we need not call them enemies. Father might to it, but they are not our enemies. They treated us with honor."

"And they shall be treated with honor when they join us at Highgarden," she tells me as she shakes her head. "That goes without saying. But their House will not be the only House joining us. And the Red Viper will never ask for your hand in marriage." She gives me a pointed look.

"Must all come down to marriage?" I sigh.

"It must." Willas tells me, smirking at me. I wish he was closer, so that I could hit him on the shoulder.

"Your brother is right," Grandmother agrees. "A marriage alliance is necessary, Clara."

"A marriage to whom?" I ask.

"That is yet to be seen," She tells me, taking a sip of her wine. "We shall see after the tournament. Both of you speak well. You are smart, perceptive. Wherever we send you next, you will find your way. And your marriage, my dear Clara, depends solely on who gives us the best offer."

"Offer of what?" Willas speaks up, surprising me. "Money? Land? As if we do not already have enough of both? Why not let Clara chose her own companion. We have strong ties with all of the Kingdome." He tells her. The truth of the matter is, we have strong ties everywhere, except in King's Landing. While my father did bend the knee to King Robert, and while no further conflict happened after the rebellion, we were not… well loved. I was lucky to be older than King Robert's children; if I was not, I would be the one offered to them. Now, it is Margaery who will take that roll upon herself. Marriage to House Baratheon; whether it was with King Robert's brother, or one of his children.

The best present to the biggest future ally. Which leaves me free and ready to be allied with another House. I wish I had the strength to be angered at this, but I have expected it for a very long time; I grew up knowing that I will not marry a man of my choosing, as Willas just suggested.

"We have money and we have land. We need an alliance," She tells him, before turning her head to look at me. "And that is what your marriage will be."

…

I close my eyes as I take in the warmth of the sun. With my back on the ground, my body was exposed to the warmth. Well, my face and my arms; the other parts of me were covered.

"Your skin will burn," I hear Willas's voice and a moment later, I hear his footsteps; I could hear his cane even on grass. "You do not care, do you?" he asks and I hear him sit down next to me. When I open my eyes, I see he lied down next to me.

"Our old lady grandmother commented how I am pale even in blue. It must be fixed." I joke.

"I wonder how she would feel about you being red with sunburns." Willas laughs.

"I have no doubt that we will soon find out." I say, making him laugh. I smile as I close my eyes again, the sun shining too brightly for me to handle.

"There you are!" I hear my sister's voice and both Willas and I look up to see Margaery making her way to us. "I have been looking everywhere for you."

"Darling, you know we are always in the garden." Willas tells her, smiling. It is true. If Lady Clara or Lord Willas are nowhere to be seen, the garden is the answer. More often than not, this is exactly where we are. I write, Willas takes care of his birds, I read, he reads, or we are simply having a conversation.

"You tend to forget that our largest garden also happens to be a labyrinth, and the two of you always change your favorite location." Margaery bites back.

"Alright, the two of you," I laugh at them. "Let's take it easy, shall we? Why don't you join us?" I invite Margary over and she walks to us, sitting down as both Willas and I turn around to face her.

"Where have you been this morning? Loras looked for you, he wanted to say goodbye."

"Goodbye? Where did he go to?" Willas asks in surprise.

"King's Landing." Margaery tells us, giving us both a pointed look; that look of hers told us more than any words ever could.

"Again?" I wonder as my sister nods. "Gods, he needs to be careful. I know he couldn't care less about what people say, about what people talk, but if anyone finds out about them…" I sigh.

"Renly is the one pushing it," Willas tells us, shaking his head. "Loras is more frightened than he is."

"Renly is a good man," Margeary sighs. "He has his flaws, but he is a good man."

"I never said he wasn't. I just said he doesn't care. He does not have anything to lose. Not as Loras does."

"No," I disagree. "He has just as much to lose, if not even more. He is the King's brother. He will have a lot to lose, perhaps even more than Loras, if people were to find out that he… prefers swords." I add. I was not expecting both Willas and Margaery to laugh as hard as they did.

We knew. Of course we knew. I suspect Margaery knew even before Loras himself knew it. Even with the distinct pairing between the four of us, we were still a close group; we were close siblings and we could read one another with ease. Loras's secret never stood a chance.

Just as it never was an issue. All three of us, even Willas, saw no problem with what his preferences were. However, we saw the danger he would be in if others were to know. Disapproval? No, we've never took that road. Worry? All the time.

"No one knows other than us," Margaery shakes her head. "Well, us and Renly."

"As blind as Father is to it, Loras travels to King's Landing often. People talk and rumors start. I would not care, not normally, but when they put my brother in harm? I care. He needs to be careful. Margaery, you need to talk some sense into him." I tell my sister.

"Why me?" She asks in surprise.

"Because he might just listen to you." I tell her. We cannot do it together; if all three confront him, he would panic, and Gods only know what he would do then. Margaery is the only one from the three of us that has a particularly gentle approach; gentler than mine, and definitely gentler than Willas's. Knowing Loras, he would not handle it well if his older brother was the one to advise him to keep his love affair with a man a secret.

"Alright," Margaery agrees. "I will speak with him when he returns for the tournament."

"Ah, the tournament at Highgarden," Willas sighs. "I wonder why we do not call it simply a tournament that will help our Grandmother find a proper husband for Clara." He says, and this time, he was close enough for me to hit him, while Margaery smiled down at us.

"Is that the true motive then?" She asks.

"Of course it is," I confirm. "You are already going into the hands of a Baratheon, whether it is the King's son or the King's brother. That is, if Grandmother succeeds in her plans and I have no doubt that she will."

"And which House will you join?" she asks.

"I do not know," I answer honestly. "It is difficult to find an appropriate match for Willas and myself. Most of the heirs are too young for us, and the others are already married. Although that is not something that I wish, it would be smart to hand me off to Dorne. That is the one alliance we need to strengthen. As we know, father would never agree to that."

"If he did, would you accept it?" Willas asks me.

"I would, I would not have a choice," I smile. "That does not mean that is something I want. You have seen it with your own eyes, just as I did. As kind and as welcoming as they were, they are beast. Predators. Not only on the battlefield, I am afraid."

"I believe Prince Oberyn would not complain about that offer." Willas tells me with a smirk.

"No, he wouldn't. I would rather not share my husband with another lover, if I have any say in it. Especially not with a lover that is the love of his life." I tell him. He saw it as well. The love between Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand is… real. Palpable and obvious. As a real love should be.

"Where would you like to go then?" Margaery asks me and I shrug.

"I do not know, darling. I do not know these men. Names mean little to me; it is our family that will benefit from our marriages, not us. We will just… marry. And if we are lucky enough, our husbands will be good man. That is all that matters. If I do not know them, how can I know if I want them?" I ask.

"We were born and bred for this," Willas shakes his head. "We do not have a say. That is simply the way it is. Perhaps, if we are lucky, we end up liking the ones they chose for us."

"I doubt it," Margaery sighs. I notice the look on her face and I cannot blame her. Renly would have been a good match for her, if it were not for his affair with our brother. Prince Joffrey? If I was to be promised to him, I would throw myself from the highest tower of Highgarden without a second thought. I have met him. I have seen enough. Enough not to want that to my sister.

"Who do you want? Renly or Joffrey?" I ask her.

I watch as she thinks about my question. I know she must have considered it before; I considered all of my possible matches as well, and mine are not yet know, as hers were. Well, known for us.  
Margaery was gentler than I am. She was more romantic, she was a better lady than I ever was. If I had spent sleepless nights, imagining what my marriage would be like, I can only imagine how many nights she did the same.

"Joffrey," She tells us with a sigh. "Renly might be a better man, but him and Loras… and I want power." She tells us.

I knew it before, but hearing her say it, in those words… I was surprised.

"Do not judge me, Clara," She smiles at me as she notices my look of surprise. "We all want different things. And I do want power. I do want to be a Queen."

"I know. That is why I do not judge you," I smile back, before looking at Willas. "One would think we were lucky to be highborn Lords and Ladies. And look at us now? You might marry an idiot, our brother has a male lover, all of your possible matches are still children and Gods only know who I will marry."

"To each its own, Clara," Margaery smiles at me. "We do what we were born to do."

…

I smile as I pull the reins, making my horse stop in its tracks. We turn around, just in time to see Willas approaching on his own horse.

"I thought you were only slow whilst walking, brother." I tease him.

"Poke fun at the cripple, will you," He shakes his head, a bright smile on his face. I laugh. "Why are you in such a rush? Plan to run somewhere?" I ask.

"With all the guests that will join us as soon as tomorrow, I would not mind running away for a little while, no." I admit. When Willas smiles it me, it is a small, kind smile, the one that is only ever reserved for me, or perhaps Margaery. On any other given day, I would consider that smile to be reassuring. Today I do not feel that way. Not with what is going to occur over the next few days.

"And where would you run to?" He asks me.

"I cannot say. Anywhere they would have me."

"I am afraid it was too late for a swift escape," He smiles at me. He shakes his head and looks away. I notice his eyes widen. "And here comes proof." He tells me, raising his hand to show me something. I urge my horse to walk to him, where I follow the direction of his hand. It does not take me long to see it; orange in the midst of green fields is noticeable.

I stop counting when I've reached the number of 20. More than 20 Martell banners.

"Is it an accident that they are first to arrive?" I ask, giving my brother a questioning look.

"Oberyn Martell doing something by accident? I highly doubt it," He tells me through laughter. "Father knows he is coming. He invited their House himself. Let us hope he will stay true to his promise of hospitality."

"Let us hope," I confirm. My Father was not the smartest man, but not even he would be stupid enough to harm the Prince of Dorne in any way. If that was to be done, not only would that be the end of our House, but quite possibly the end of Westeros.

I look at my brother. A cripple he may be, but a cripple with an enormous heart and brains to match. He would be a better Lord than my father ever was. When Willas's time comes, I know the House of Tyrell will continue to prosper, and as our words say, grow strong. Until that happens, we must hope that my Father will not manage to singlehandedly destroy us all.

"Should we meet them?" Willas asks me. "Perhaps it would be better for the greater good if we were the ones to greet the Martells and not father?"

"You are right," I agree. We have been to Dorne and we have stayed there for more than a month. They will know us. "Let's go." I smile at him and before he had a chance to react, I was already away on my horse, leaving him behind.

It does not take us long to reach the Martell cavalry. We do not walk in front of them, but stand on the side, knowing that the one in front would have to be a dear friend of ours. And so it was. The whole cavalry slowed down when they saw us in the distance, waiting for them.

The people stopped, as Willas and I exchanged worried looks. Seconds later, they continue, with one horse and one rider stepping away from the rest of them. They came our way and it did not take us long to realize that it is our friend. Both of us dismount our horses and wait for him to join us. Before I notice anything else about him, I see a huge smile on Oberyn Martell's face.

"Ah, look at the two of you," he calls out with his thick accent I found very attractive; it wasn't just his. All of the voices I heard in Dorne were much more… exotic and interesting, compared to ours. "The two weeds in the rose garden." He tells us. It would not be the first time he called us that.

"I see you still refuse to bite your tongue." Willas laughs as Oberyn dismounts his horse.

"I always will," he announces as he walks over to us, looking as relaxed and as comfortable as he ever did. He looks at me and we exchange smiles. "My dear Clara," he smiles at me. He opens his arms and I do the same, expecting a hug. What I did not expect was a full kiss on the lips as he pulls me closer to him. I should have expected that. That is how he said goodbye to me before I left Dorne.

"Oh my," I laugh when he pulls away. "It is nice to see you as well, Oberyn."

"Oberyn." My brother warns him, obviously not too happy with the greeting I received. Oberyn simply smiles and strolls over to my brother, opening his arms for a hug. Willas smiles at him but as he tries to hug the man, Oberyn does the same he did with me; he kisses my brother, full on the lips.

I could not hold back my laughter, not when I noticed the surprise on Willas's face and the smile Oberyn had when he pulled away. That man does not have preferences; he takes it all.

"I do hope you realize that you should not greet our Father in such a way." I joke.

"I would rather throw myself on a spear than kiss that old frog," Oberyn tells me. Both Willas and I laugh, despite the insulting words Oberyn used to describe our father. I chose not to take the insult too personally; knowing Oberyn better than I did before our trip to Dorne, I know that he does not have the ability to choose his words at all times. Just as I know that he does not mean everything he says. "You, I am glad to see. How have you been, my friends?" He asks.

"Very well, thank you," Willas tells him. "And you? Your daughters? Ellaria?"

"All are well, all eight of them," Oberyn smirks. The man is as fertile as our own land. "Ellaria misses you both terribly, although I have to say, she misses you the most." He says, pointing at me.

"As she would," I smile, feeling uncomfortable. "I miss her as well. Did she not join you?"

"No, she decided to stay at Dorne," Oberyn tells me. "She believes she had already seen the best Highgarden has to offer. I tend to agree with her on that, but I cannot deny my curiosity, can I?"

"Oh Gods help us!" Willas laughs. "How many bastards you plan on having while you are here?"

"Depends," Oberyn smirks and lifts his eyebrow. "If the ladies are as beautiful as your sister, plenty."

"Never a dull moment with you, Oberyn." I laugh.

"And you haven't even seen the best of me," He tells me, biting his lip. Only Oberyn Martell would be brave enough to try to seduce a lady in the presence of her older brother. Truth be told, only Oberyn Martell could be successful in such an attempt. "Cast your prayers, my friends. Oberyn Martell is about to enter Highgarden and Oberyn Martell makes quite an entrance!" He announces.

Willas and I exchange looks, both of us struggling not to laugh. As humorous as it was, I cannot help but wonder if this tournament was a mistake after all.

"Never a dull moment." Willas sighs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, wow.**

 **Thank you, thank you, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I did not expect you to receive this story in such a way. It means a lot. The follows, the reviews, everything.**

 **I was thinking of letting it simmer for a while, but it's just too good of a story to put it on pause, isn't it. I will be juggling this and my other GOT story, Running up that hill, so I'm not sure how often will I be able to update, but I have big plans for this. And the best part of this is, SO MANY CHARACTERS! I am not focused on one particular family. I hope I do them justice.**

 **Let me know what you think. I hope you enjoy chapter 2! :)**

* * *

I run down the corridor, fully aware that I was late. With my hair done and wearing nothing but a night gown, I run to the only person that could be my rescuer in this situation.

Margaery jumps up in surprise when I storm into her room, not bothering to knock.

"I need a dress," I tell her, breathless from the running. "I need a dress now."

"What? What kind of dress? Don't you have any dresses of your own?" She asks me with a frown.

"You speak as you do not know the Queen of Thorns," I say, still struggling to breathe properly, winded from the run. "If she sees me wearing any color other than the ones of our house, she will have me strangled in my sleep."

"Fair enough," Margaery agrees with a smile. She walks into the room where she kept her dresses; that is how many dresses she had. I wait for her, knowing that she would be my rescuer. "Green or gold, low cut, I would imagine?" I hear my sister ask.

"Yes," I agree. "And one that is not so tight. You know you are smaller than I am."

"Only in the chest, you lucky girl," I hear her comment and I laugh as I shake my head. With a face like hers, one would lose all the rights to complain. "Ah, I found the perfect one." She announces as she walks out of the room, holding a dark green dress with pale green, floral broidery. "You can keep this one as well; dark shades suit you better than they suit me, with that hair of yours." She smiles.

Margaery and Loras are like twins. Light brown hair, brown eyes. Willas and I are similar to one another as well; dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. All but our skin was a shade darker than on Loras and Margaery. I cannot complain with what my family and the Gods gave me. Perhaps I could not be Maragery's equal, but I am not difficult for someone to look at.

"Could you help me with it?" I ask as I stumble out of my night gown. I could not afford to be embarrassed in front of my own sister. She helps me, tying the dress in the back. "Darling, this is too tight." I say, looking down at my chest and how exposed it was.

"Did you not say low cut?"

"I did, but I also said not too tight."

"Ah, stop complaining," my sister laughs at me. "If anything, the Queen of Thorns will be proud of you, catching eyes of possible suitors."

"Which one, dear sister?" I jump up as she tightens the dress more, with the strength I never would associate with her. "Were we looking at the same crowd of men, over these last few days? Because I have not seen anyone remotely interesting."

"To you, perhaps," she agrees. "To Grandmother, however… she will find you a husband by the end of this, Clara. The only question is whether or not she chooses someone you like."

"You might be right. Let us hope someone suitable arrives soon." I joke.

"Who? Almost everyone is already here," Margaery informs me. "The only ones that are yet to arrive are the Lannisters, and we know them well. The Starks as well. And a handful of knights."

"More than enough to improve this existing mess," I complain, making my sister laugh. "I am not asking for much, am I? I wish for an interesting man that is not much older than me. Finding him attractive could be an added benefit, but it is not necessary. I just wish to not marry someone as old as our father, if not even older." I admit.

"Whoever they end up choosing for you, I hope you end up happy," Margaery takes me by the shoulders and turns me around, so that I can look at her. "Who would have thought that with all the differences between two of us, you would be the one looking for romance and a charming knight?"

"You want power and I do not," I give her a small smile. "We simply want different things."

"But why?" She asks me. "Why don't you want power?"

"If I wanted it as well… we could not have power in the same place. And if having power meant going up against my sister, I would never want it."

The truth is, I thought about it. Of course I have. Would I like to be a Queen? I have no particular desire to rule, but I would not find myself complaining if that was to become my life. However, in Westeros, there cannot be more than one Queen. And my sister was born to be one. I was born to be someone else, someone different, someone of less importance.

"It will never get to that," Margaery gives me a reassuring smile. I do not have a chance to respond and say that I hope so as well; I am interrupted by a horn, a horn signalizing that more guests have arrived. Margaery lets go of me and runs up to the window. "It's the Lannisters." She informs me.

"Let's not keep them waiting then," I suggest. We link arms and make our way through the castle, to wait for them at the grand staircase. We were the only ones there, but that did not come as a surprise to us. Willas is entertaining some of our other guests, and father is doing the same. Loras has not yet arrived from King's Landing. Mother is following father wherever he goes and Grandmother is probably plotting away in the comfort of her quarters. That leaves Margaery and me with the task of greeting some of our most important guests.

I do not have a particular love for the Lannisters, but that was mostly because I do not have a particular love for Cersei Lannister, our Queen. Her brothers were alright in my eyes. They have been nothing but kind to me, even the Kingslayer. I saw no reason to openly dislike them, despite the rivalry between our houses. A slow simmering and well hidden rivalry, at that.

The first one I see is Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer. He looked as handsome as ever. Perhaps even too handsome for a man, with the golden hair and green eyes. And, of course, that famous smirk.

"Lady Margaery. Lady Clara," He greets us as he walks over to us, kissing the back of my sister's hand before taking my own and doing the same. "It is a pleasure to see you both again."

"Welcome to our home, Ser Jaime," Margaery smiles at him. "We hope your journey here was safe."

"Safe, yes. Unfortunately, not as comfortable," Jaime smiles at here. "Nonetheless, it is a pleasure to be here, Lady Margaery. You and your sister are as lovely as I remember."

"Thank you, Ser Jaime," I speak up, smiling at the man. "I hope you enjoy your stay here and the tournament. The servants will take you up to your chambers. A warm bath, comfy bed and delicious food are waiting for you."

"Thank you, Lady Clara. I look forward to seeing you both later." Jaime nods as he follows a servant into the castle. As soon as I turn around to look at their cavalry, I notice someone else approaching us.

Tyrion Lannister. The Imp, the dwarf, the disgrace of the Lannister name.

And the funniest, smartest man I have ever met.

"Lord Tyrion," I smile at him. Ignoring the rules I should uphold, as a Lady, I lower myself to be closer to Tyrion's height and I hug him. When I pull away, he smiles at me. "It is so nice to see you again."

"It is nice to see you as well, my dear Clara," He smiles, and then moves on to greet my sister; she does not do the same as I did; she simply offers him her hand, which he kisses. "Lady Margaery, as lovely as always. Finally, I will have a chance to enjoy the beauty of Higharden."

"It is about time, is it not?" I ask, making the man smile. "I hope you enjoy your stay, Lord Tyrion."

"Our servant will take you to your quarters, Lord Tyrion," Margaery tells him and with a nod of his head, Tyrion follows the servant into the castle, just as his brother did. There will be time for a conversation. "Now we just have to wait for the Starks and for the knights." She sighs.

"Like our town isn't overcrowded as it is," I sigh. I did not agree with this tournament from the beginning. The last time we were a part of a tournament, my brother was unhorsed by Oberyn Martell and ended up a cripple. And the biggest tournament in Westeros history started a war, a war that gave us a new King and too many dead to count. "It will be over soon enough." I say, unsure if I was trying to reassure my sister or myself.

"That it will," Margaery agrees. "Oh, this does not look good." She sighs and I look up, trying to see what she was looking at. It did not take me long to realize. Oberyn Martell was standing, leaned on a wall and staring down at the Lannister men. I could see the distaste in his eyes, even from this distance. Oberyn is not an easily readable man, but now, he was an open book. Knowing him, this was a reason for worry. Margaery, who barely knows the man, could see it as well. "Will you handle that?"

"I will," I sigh. Willas and I are the only ones in our family that do not look at Oberyn with dismay, and we are the only ones he actually… likes. If anyone was to give him a warning, it would have to be Willas or me. And Willas is nowhere to be seen. "Go on, I will join you later." I tell her.

"Good luck," she tells me with a small smile.

I take a deep breath and I make my way to Oberyn, avoiding the Lannister men as I walked. He did not even notice me, not until I stood right in front of him. He tries to hide his anger, but he does not succeed; I have already seen it. I smile and I link our arms.

"Walk with me," I tell him, and not waiting for him to respond, I pull him by the arm and make him walk with me. I smile at those who pass us buy, nodding at them if they nod; it was nothing unusual about this. A prince and a highborn lady walking together; it is hardly something unexpected. Oberyn was silent and so was I, until we were in the garden labyrinth and away from prying eyes. "I understand why you dislike the Lannisters and while that is understandable, I must warn you. Be careful of what you say or do while you are here, Oberyn. We do not want an incident in our home." I warn him.

"I will do nothing," Oberyn shakes his head. "They may be Lannisters, but it was not the dwarf that killed and raped my sister." He tells me.

"Oberyn, I understand your desire for revenge, but I beg of you, don't do anything stupid."

"I will not," He reassures me again, smirking down at me. "Dorne is patient. Dorne can wait. The longer Dorne waits, the sweeter revenge will be. See, my love, revenge is like… Dornish wine. The longer it waits, the better it tastes. Revenge is like… a lover. The more experience he has, the better lover he will be." He explains, that smirk still present. Only Oberyn Martell could find a common thread between revenge and passion.

"Why does every word that comes out of your mouth sound like it has a hidden meaning?"

"Because it does," He admits, without shame. "It does and you know it, my love."

"Oberyn," I warn him, unlinking our arms and stepping away from him. "We have had this discussion. I am not insulted when you speak like that, but you will not bed me."

"You were a different person in Dorne," He sighs. This time, he was no longer smirking at me. "You were free. You were wild. You were yourself." He reminds me. He is right. I was free and wild and I was myself. That is what a person is, when they are away from home. That is what someone becomes, when they are having fun. For that one month, I did not need to be Clara of House Tyrell and I took that chance. I took that chance and I would take it again.

"Yes, I was," I agree. "I am home now, Oberyn. There is a way I need to act. There is a façade I must keep. It is not my choice; it is a rule. I refused you time and time again, in Dorne and here. And you know why. I am to be married, Oberyn." I remind him.

"Yes, you are," he says, and I felt relief when I saw that smirk of his reappear again; I thought I might have angered him. "And that is a shame."

"You make it sound as if you would want to take me to Sunspear yourself." I laugh.

"Yes, I would," he confirms. "I would marry you straight away. I would take you to Dorne. I would offer you all of my riches and make love to you every night, and watch you give me eight more children." He sighs; his words came as a surprise to me. It takes me a moment before I could find the right words.

"I'm flattered to know you have obviously considered that possibility."

"I have considered that from the moment I laid eyes on you," He laughs. "Alas, I will not do it."

"Why not?" I ask him. "I am not hurt. I am curious." I explain.

"For one, there is not a woman in this world that would make me give up Ellaria," he smiles, thinking of his lover. "Not even you. You know Ellaria would never have a problem with you, but I know you, Clara. You would not like that. And I would rather not have you than to put you through that misery. Besides, no matter how good my offer would be, your father would never give me your hand."

"He might," I tell him, shaking my head. "Willas and I changed his mind, if only a little. He might do it."

"But you would not be happy, would you?" Oberyn asks.

"No, probably not," I answer, honestly. Neither he nor Ellaria held back when it comes to their offers. I knew very well that I could share their bed, if I only wanted to. I'll admit, the thought is… intriguing. The two of them are beautiful and kind, and tales of Oberyn's conquests in bed were well known through the land. As intriguing as it might be, it would also be overwhelming. And I will only ever belong to the man that marries me. I grew up with that notion and that is the way I want it to be. My husband will be the only one that beds me, whoever he might be. And just as Oberyn said, I would not be happy with the notion of sharing my husband. "She is your love, Oberyn. No woman will ever come close to her, nor should she. You do not need a wife."

"No, I do not," He smiles. "That doesn't mean I don't want you."

"Flattered and intrigued I may be, but I will have a husband, Oberyn. I will belong to him." I tell him.

"You belong to no one, woman," he warns me. "The sooner you learn that, the better. Only in Dorne, women are not one's property. No wonder they leave you unsatisfied, when you should be treated as equals. You will never belong to your husband. Marry. Do your duty and I will do mine. You will be more than welcome to Dorne, when you come searching for real passion." He smiles.

"Why are you so certain that no one else would please me?" I laugh.

"Who could it be, then?" he asks. "One of the Northern boys, those whose blood doesn't boil, but is frozen? Or maybe the young Baratheon, who wouldn't know how to handle a woman for the life of him. Who else is left? They are all either children or old men. Your father would never give you to a lesser house. My love, you will either go north or to the Imp. Would you marry the imp?" He asks.

"I would."

"Of course you would, if your family tells you to," he agrees. "Would you ever do it by choice?"

"I would." I repeat.

"You would? Why?"

"Because he can make me laugh." I reply.

"Ah, my love," Oberyn sighs, shaking his head at me. "You are too good for this wretched world."

"I am not," I disagree, shaking my head. "I just do not know what it is that I want. I grew up knowing that it will be the call of my family, Lady Olenna, to be precise. And I am alright with that. That is the world we live in. If I was born in a smaller family, as a common girl, it would be my choice. But now that it is not, I cannot worry myself about the choice, when it will not be up to me."

"You are different when you are with your own people," Oberyn tells me. "I'm not sure if I like this Clara." He adds. I was unsure how to react to that.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You hold yourself back. Your laugh isn't as loud as it was in Dorne. You do not smile as wide, or talk as honestly. What happened to the woman that wielded that spear with such ease?"

"Oberyn," I give him a warning look. "That is not common knowledge." I remind him.

"You think people will judge you for learning how to use a spear?" he asks through laughter.

"It is not judgment I worry about," I shake my head. "I am a Lady, Oberyn. I am not… a warrior princess."

"Why did you do it then?"

"Because it was fun. Fun, different and dangerous. And I was curious. I did it because I wanted to do it, not because it was a skill I would ever use." I tell him.

I remember it with such clarity. I remember the sun burning my skin, I remember the sweat from under my hair; I was foolish enough to keep it lose, even in the Dornish heat. I remember the ease and elegance with which Oberyn moved as he was teaching me, not only how to use the spear in my hand, but how to avoid the one he used. It was more like a dance than it was a fight.

I remember that I could never perfectly imitate his moves, no matter how hard I tried. I remember Willas, Ellaria, Trystane and the eldest Sand Snakes, watching us and cheering for me, reassuring me as I was embarrassing myself. No one could ever match Oberyn and his skills, especially not a girl that never held a spear before in her life.

We practiced almost every day, and by the time Willas and I set off on our journey back home, I knew how to handle the spear quite well, having learned from the best.

I could still not match Oberyn and his skills, not even close, but that was not my goal to begin with. As I just told him, it was never about mastering a much needed skill; it was never about knowing how to defend myself. I had a completely different goal.

I wanted to do something fun, something I could not imagine myself doing, not even in my wildest dreams. Something that I know would stop Olenna Tyrell's heart, if she only knew about it. That was my own little rebellion. I never planned to continue with it.

"My love, you are such a contradiction," Oberyn smiles at me. It was not a seductive smile, the one he usually wears, at least when he speaks to me. I think it might be pity. He looks as if he is feeling sorry for me, which is not a look I am used to. "You want to be wild and to have fun, but you also want to do what is expected of you. You will marry whoever they chose for you, but you want to fall madly in love. You are dear to my heart, you know that. You do not have to share my bed to have my love and support, Clara. I worry for you. You need to decide what will it be. You can never be happy, not until you chose one. Follow others and do what is expected, or do whatever it is that you want to do."

Not even his sultry voice could make it seem less terrifying. And it truly was terrifying, because I know he is right. Happiness is something I hope for, yet at the same time, I am saying goodbye at the possibility.

I cannot be wild and free, while at the same time, I am what my family expects and more than that, what my family _needs_ me to be. Our land is not a safe place. We went to war easily, not that long ago. We might go to war again. And for that, my family might need me.

Would I ever say no to it? And for what? To run around the fields with flowers in my hair? To become known as the one who found no one good enough to be her husband? To wield a sword or a spear and to curse and laugh in the most unladylike fashion? No. It is not worth it.

"Perhaps happiness is not achievable. Perhaps happiness is not realistic. Or it is simply not for me."

"My dearest Clara, if you do not have happiness, you have nothing."

* * *

When I was a child, no more than 10 years old, I was still too young to travel. Father and Mother would leave us behind with Grandmother, while the two of them traveled all around Westeros, even Essos.

We would stay behind and at first, we would only ever travel to our vassal Houses. The result was that the four of us formed strong bonds amongst us, some stronger than others. Also, the number of our childhood friends was quite low. Apart from the children living in our town, the children we would spend most of our time with were sons of Randyll Tarly, Samwell and Dickon and their eldest sister, Talla.

I was young and… simple. And that resulted with me falling in love with Dickon Tarly when I was still a child.

Gods, I thought I would love the boy until my dying day. He was handsome and easy on the eye, strong and capable, favored with his father. I thought I was going to marry him one day, that he would be my prince and that we will live happily ever after, together, at Horn Hill.

When I grew up, I realized just how foolish I was as a child.

Dickon Tarly is a self-centered, self-absorbed idiot. Oberyn would use the word "cocky" to describe him, but I would prefer the word "mean". All other flaws aside, I could never forget the way he would treat his older brother, Samwell.

Samwell, who is the kindest person I have ever met, with a heart and mind too large for this world.

Dickon was favored with his father, but that was no excuse. Margaery has always been the favorite in our family, and not once did she use that against me, not once was she as despicable as Dickon was with his brother. My young and foolish hopes were soon shattered. Dickon was not the fine prince that would make my life a fairytale.

Being seated next to him for the grand feast, the first of many, was pure torture.

"Do you think I will win?" Dickon asks me.

"Win what?"

"Well, the tournament of course," He laughs. "Many great fighters will be present. It will not be easy, definitely not, but I think I stand a chance. What about you?"

"Where is Samwell?" I ask him, disregarding his question. "Why is he not here?"

"What, so that he could participate?" Dickon laughs, looking at me as if my question was stupid. "Sam can't even hold a sword, let alone wield it."

"He is the heir of your House. He deserves to be here, does he not?" I ask. Dickon avoids my eyes, obviously not agreeing with the opinion I just shared. I am not surprised by it; what I am surprised is that he did not even bother to deny it.

I can only worry about the sitting arrangements. I am not seated next to him by accident. I have never considered him as a possible husband to me, simply because he is from a lesser house, and I thought that Grandmother would rather die than waste her grandchildren to lesser houses. Now, seeing that I am attached to him, I wonder if I was mistaken.

Perhaps Margaery would be enough? If that is the case, if my marriage would not be a necessity, why is it not my choice then? Marriage to Dickon Tarly sounds more painful than falling from the highest tower.

"Lady Clara," I hear a voice and when I turn around, I see Tyrion Lannister standing next to me. "May I borrow you from Lord Tarly? If only for a moment? He asks.

"Not a problem at all," I speak up, jumping from my seat and putting my hand on Tyrion's shoulder, following him through the crowd and away from Dickon. "Thank you for that rescue." I say in a low voice, careful not to let anyone hear us. We sit down at a small table, possibly the only empty one, as the hall was crowded. With all the noise, there was no need for me to bother with keeping my voice low; I did so nonetheless. If there is anything that my Grandmother taught me, it is to be careful, at all times. Even when I am in my own home.

"You looked as if were moments away from drowning yourself in your goblet." He tells me and I laugh.

"I'm afraid your observations were correct." I sigh.

"Is it possible that I am better company than the gallant Lord Dickon Tarly?" He asks.

"At any given moment," I admit, smiling back at him. "A capable warrior he is, I am sure of it. Being a capable warrior has nothing to do with one's ability to have a decent conversation. I am afraid Dickon Tarly is not a man complete."

"Will you be sentenced to a lifetime of that, Lady Clara?" Tyrion asks me. I was not aware that my marriage was the affair of the entire Kingdome; I thought that only my family bothered with that. With Oberyn asking me about it and now Tyrion doing the same, I realize that perhaps my family is not the only one looking for an ally.

"Hopefully not," I admit. "I find that highly unlikely. It would be like planting seeds into the ground twice; Tarly's are our vassal house. Why make an alliance when you already have one?"

"Are you not worried they will send you north, into the cold of Winterfell? Or south, into the boiling heat of Dorne?" He asks me.

"Afraid is such a strong word," I shake my head. "Fear… if I am to feel fear, I will feel fear for something that should induce fear. Marriage is marriage. A long time ago, it must have had more meaning. I am sure that some marriages in Westeros are based on love. Most are based on deals. I grew up knowing it would be a deal and perhaps, with any luck, I would enjoy the company of my husband. I am not afraid of that. I am not particularly joyous either, but I am not afraid." I explain, earning a small smile from Tyrion. "And what of you, Lord Tyrion? Are you not afraid they will marry me off to you?" I ask.

Sometimes, I am too bold on the tongue. I take too much from my Grandmother.

"Afraid is such a strong word," He repeats my words and I chuckle. "No, my Lady. That will not happen. Your family knows better, I am afraid. And I am not such a good man. A lady like you deserves better."

"What is better?" I ask him. "Is it Dickon Tarly? The Stark boy? Renly Baratheon? Better?"

I have no particularly desire to marry Tyrion, no more than I would want to marry Oberyn. Chances are slim with both, but out of all the possible matches, I would be the most satisfied with these. Oberyn I know. Oberyn I like. That marriage would give me plenty of difficulties, but at least I would be sure of my own safety. I do not know Tyrion as well, but I know he has a kinder heart than the rest of his family. That much I could see on numerous occasions. A dwarf he may be, but he is not a monster.

"Yes," he nods his head. "You are too young to understand, Lady Clara."

"Enlighten me, then." I reply, leaning over the table. "Money means little to my family. We have more than enough of it. Looks are of even lesser importance, given that I am the only one that will bed my husband. It won't be my Grandmother, or my father. It all comes down to a name. All I can hope for is to marry someone who will be kind. The rest is useless."

"Perhaps you understand after all," Tyrion looks at me, frowning, as if he is trying to discover something that my words won't reveal for themselves. "There are very few good people in this land, Lady Clara. You are one of them."

"Good? Good is such a strong word," I sigh, looking away. "I don't know if you are right about that, Lord Tyrion. I am smart. That I can assure you."

He looks at me for a long time. I could not read him, no matter how hard I tried. We simply stare at each other, not saying a word to one another, ignoring the crowd, the cheers and the songs around us.

"Clara," a voice calls out for me, and when I turn, I see Margaery standing close to our table. "Clara, come. I need your help," she smiles as she waves me over. I give Tyrion a nod before making my way to my sister, who links arms with me and starts walking as soon as I get to her. "You are welcome."

"Come again?" I ask her, confused.

"People would talk," she warns me, smiling at those who we passed by, not looking directly at me. "It is not in your best interest for people to see you friendly with Tyrion Lannister."

"Why not?" I ask her in surprise. Out of all the people who could have come up to me and say those words, I never would have expected it to be Margaery.

"Your future husband might be in this room, Clara," she explains, still smiling around at people, acting as we were simply two sisters, having a light, carefree chat. "And he is not Tyrion Lannister."

"Being friendly with the son of one of the biggest Houses in Westeros could hardly ruin my prospects."

"It could if people start talking, and you know people love to talk," she tells me, finally turning to look at me; she was not smiling anymore. "I have had to play this game for longer than you have and believe me sister, it is not an enjoyable game. Be careful with how much time you spend with Tyrion Lannister. And with Oberyn Martell as well. When people start to talk, not even the truth could stop them."

A part of me was angry at my sister for saying this. As someone who has known me her entire life, she should have known better. It does not take me long to realize I am not the issue in her story.

If I am to play the game, I must learn from the best. And the best just happens to be my sister.


	3. Chapter 3

**Yeah… so much for me not updating all the time.  
Oh well. Here it goes.  
I hope you like it. Let me know what you think.  
Oh and geez, you REALLY want an Aegon story. I kind of feel petrified :D I'm still not sure what I will do. I have a few options swimming around in my head, but we'll see. After all, there's still time.  
Either way, I hope you like this chapter :)**

* * *

The sky was cloudy today, but it was warm all the same. Even with the breeze present, it was not cold enough for me to wear a dress out of thinner fabric, with longer sleeves and a high neckline.

I cannot remember a time when Highgarden was as crowded as it was now. Noble families from all over Westeros have come all the way down to the Reach, at our invitation. Most of the noble families brought plenty of men and family members. At nights, our main hall was full to the last seat and during the day, the streets were crowded with people exploring our town and castle.

Singers were at every corner, making people stop in their tracks and listen to the songs, often giving them a coin or two. Servants were carrying food everywhere. The streets, the garden, even the training ring; you will find a drink and fresh fruit waiting for you, served with a smile of our people.

Three days before the tournament starts. We have to wait for more than ten days for this crowd to thicken and for us to go back to our daily routines.

I do not like change and I cannot always handle it well. While this tournament bothered and annoyed me at first, I was starting to enjoy it now. It was different and it ultimately started to seem like a good change. Of course, this is only the start. Not even all of the guests have arrived. By the time it is over, I might change my mind ten times, going from thinking this was the height of our stupidity, or that this was the best thing that has ever happened to our house.

At the very least, I was never short of a good conversation. Both men and women, both our people and guests, everyone was talking and everyone was in a good mood. Even Oberyn did not stare at the Lannisters with the same intensity he did when they first arrived. Oh, there is still a thirst for revenge in those brown eyes, that goes without saying. But now I believe that revenge will wait.

Surprisingly lovely and very overwhelming. That is how I would describe these last few days. At least I was not alone. I got to share it all with my siblings. All three of them, now that Loras has returned.

"My money is on the Kingslayer," Loras speaks up and I focus on the conversation yet again. "I've seen what he can do. He has strength. Brilliant with a sword." He tells us.

"Yes, but this is a joust, not a swordfight," Willas laughs at him. "If it was a weapon of choice, I would put it down to Oberyn. Seeing as it is a joust, it could be anyone."

"Even you, brother," I add, making all of them laugh, even Loras.

"It doesn't really matter, does it?" Margaery asks before taking a sip of her wine. "Loud cheers, a bit of glory and it will all disappear by the time the next tournament is organized."

"Since when are you the cynical one?" Willas asks in surprise. "I thought that roll belongs to Clara."

"Thank you." I speak up, nodding at him.

"Willas, even I get tired of all the smiling and the small talk," Margaery tells him. Come to think of it, she does look tired. She is definitely not smiling now. "Last night, I was seated next to Edmure Tully."

"Oh, you are the one to complain," I laugh, while the three of them look at me in surprise. "I would gladly sit next to Edmure Tully. I spent half the night listening to Dickon Tarly singing praises to himself. Tyrion Lannister commented that I looked as if I wanted to drown myself in my goblet, and he wasn't far from the truth." I add as the three of them laugh at my rant.

"Gods help the men who seek out Tyrell women." Loras laughs.

"Sometimes even men," I say, raising my gobbled as if I was toasting him. Margaery and Willas both laugh, while Loras shoots daggers with his eyes. "Oh, I am just teasing you."

"You are lucky that you are my sister and that I love you very much, you know that?" He asks. Even if his words were seemingly kind, his eyes were still icy. I meant no harm with my words and this is hardly the first time I teased him in such a way, but perhaps it would be good for me to change my ways. Or, at the very least, choose a more appropriate time for teasing and jests.

"Margaery is right," Willas speaks up. As the eldest of the four, Willas was… the leader, I suppose. "As soon as all of this is over, we will all go back to our regular lives."

Willas is the leader, the protector, the smart one.

Margaery is the loving one, the quiet one, the one that smiles the most.

Loras is the strong one, the loud and funny one.

And who would I be? The cynical one, as Willas suggested? The one that observes?

"Enjoy it while it lasts, is that what you suggest?" I ask him.

"Well, yes," Willas agrees. "Or try not to lose your mind while it lasts."

"Easier said than done," Margaery sighs, before turning to me. "So, should we change places tonight?"

"If they seat me next to Dickon, yes, please," I agree, knowing I would take Edmure Tully over Dickon Tarly, any day. Lord Edmure is… a nice man. He is not particularly charming, nor particularly intelligent, but our conversation cannot possibly be worse than the one I had with Dickon.

"Loras is right," Willas laughs. "Gods help those men."

I do not have a chance to fight back, since a loud horn sounds, warning as of the arrival of our guests. All four of us turn and lean over the balcony to see who it is; it does not take us long to notice the banners approaching our castle. A grey beast on white background.

"That would be the Starks," I sigh. "Shall we?" I ask, looking at my sister.

"We must hurry," she agrees, jumping out of her seat. "They will arrive by the time we get there."

"Look at the two of them, running to meet up with Northerners," Loras tells Willas, laughing.

"Shut up," Margaery and I say at the very same time, only making them laugh more. With an eye roll instead of a goodbye, I turn around and follow my sister. We do start running at one point, trying to make it to the courtyard on time. We were the ones who were supposed to great them.

Willas and Loras did not care so much for it, and Grandmother insisted that the two of us should be present, just like we were when we were greeting the Lannisters. Without a doubt, she is trying to start our relationships in a good way, especially if a marriage pact is to be made in the future.

If I greet them in a nice dress and with a lovely smile, I might just make them see that I am the perfect woman for them and that they should ask for my hand.

Personally, I would like to think that it would take more than a pretty and low cut dress to make my future husband impressed, but men are simple. Far more simple than women will ever be. Sometimes, all that it truly takes is a warm smile and a nice dress.

Running, Margaery and I get there just in time, as they have not yet passed the gate. We slow down, trying to catch our breaths and calm down.

"Come," Margaery sighs, grabbing me by the shoulders and turning me around towards her. I have no time to react as she pulls my dress down a little bit, making my chest even more revealed than it was before. Even worse, she grabs my hair and pulls it back. It does not stop there; she puts all of my hair over one shoulder, so that it falls down, wavy and long, but does not cover the most important part of me. I felt like a doll, and it did not help that I noticed our brothers laughing on the same balcony we were on just moments ago.

"Are you done?" I ask, not hiding my irritation towards her. Margaery smiles and catches me by surprise when she pinches my cheeks.

"I am now," she smiles, looking as angelic as ever. Yes, she did a good job with preparing me too look as best as possible, but she did not help my mood. "Smile, sister. This might just be your future husband."

"To hell with them," I roll my eyes.

Margaery has no time to respond, as they finally enter castle grounds. Both of us were too busy smiling and looking beautiful, too busy to bicker.

They brought men, although not as many as the Lannisters did. All of them were on horses and I did not know where to look at first. Lord Stark has a son my age, possibly the strongest contender for my hand, and as I was looking at them all, I realize that most of them look fairly young. It could be anyone of them.

However, I had no problem in knowing who Lord Stark was. The man wasn't old either, although older than the rest of them. Without a doubt, he had fewer years behind him than our father did. A muscular, tall man. But of course, all of them look tall on horseback.

"Smile," Margaery utters to me. I smile, amazed at her ability to know I was not smiling, even without looking at me. I smile as if my life depended on the way I showed my teeth.

"Lord Stark," she laughs. "Welcome to our home. Did you travel well?" She asks him.

"Very well," he smiles at her as he dismounts his horse. "Lady Clara, I presume?" he asks.

"Oh, the other way around, Lord Stark," I laugh. "My sister, Margaery. And I am Clara." I smile him.

"My apologies," Lord Stark smiles as he kisses my hand and then, Margery's as well. I might be the older sister, but Margaery is more known across Westeros, if only for her beauty. I imagine Lord Stark expected the eldest daughter to speak. To us, it never really mattered.

"Welcome," I smile at him. "Is this your first time at Highgarden, my lord?" I ask.

"Yes, my lady," he smiles at me and as he speaks, three men approach us, one closer than the others.

He is tall and wide in the shoulders, with a smile on his face, curly, auburn hair and a smile on his face as our eyes met; I look away instantly, looking at the man behind him. Same age, no older than 20. Tall, dark, handsome and smirking my way. Once again, I look away and for a change, the next man was not looking at me. He had dark hair and dark eyes and looked as if he did not want to be here.

And that would be my possible, future husband.

"Let me introduce my sons," Lord Stark speaks up and I look at him again, as he steps aside to let his son pass. "My heir, Robb." He announces and I try to hold back my surprise when the auburn man steps up, smiling as he kisses my hand, and then smiling as he kisses my sisters hand. The other man looked more like Lord Stark than his heir does. "And this is Bran." I smile as a little boy approaches us and does the same as his brother did, although looking far more nervous.

"Lord Bran," I smile at him, my smile growing when the boy's cheeks blush. "How old are you?"

"Ten, Lady Clara." He tells me.

"Ten?" I ask, feigning surprise. "Ten? You look much older and stronger, my Lord. Will you be a part of the tournament?" I ask, making him chuckle in surprise.

"No, my lady. I'm too young." He shakes his head.

"Says who?" I ask. I may not have any particular talents. I am not a good singer, nor am I a particularly good dancer, but I know how to speak to children. "My brother Loras is a knight, and you look much stronger than he does." I say to the boy. Only a part of me was lying.

"Thank you, my Lady," He smiles and when I look up, I see both Eddard Stark and his son smiling at our exchange.

"Lady Clara is very kind," Lord Stark returns my smile. "We have bothered you enough, I am afraid."

"Nonsense, Lord Stark." Margaery laughs.

"And the rest of your children?" I ask, looking at the two men behind them.

"Oh," Lord Stark's eyes widen. "Theon Greyjoy, our warden. And Jon Snow." He adds.

Oh Gods be good. Not only have I embarrassed myself, I also made a man introduce his bastard soon. I should have known better. We have all heard the story about the bastard of Winterfell. I should not have questioned Lord Stark's decision to not introduce us to everyone.

"Lord Stark," Margaery steps in, presumably in the hopes of rescuing this conversation from the fire I just pushed it in. "I'm sure you and your men would like some rest and a warm bath. Our servants will take you and your men to your respective quarters. We will have more chance to speak at the feast tonight." She tells him, playing her part as Margaery, the rescuer, perfectly.

"Thank you, my lady." He smiles. "We will speak tonight. Lady Clara, Lady Margaery." He nods his head before following our servants. The rest of his men go their separate ways, some after him, some to the staples, after our own staple boys, to take care of their horses.

In a matter of moments, Margaery and I are left alone at the stairs.

"What in the name of Gods were you thinking?" my sister asks, hissing at me in a low voice. "The man has a bastard he raised as his own son, it's common knowledge. Why point it out?"

"Margaery, do not chastise me," I warn her, annoyed by the tone of her voice. We might be equals in many ways, but I am her older sister. Some respect should be present when she speaks to me. "I made a fool of myself and I am well aware of that. No need to point it out." I sigh, shaking my head at my own stupidity. "Did you see the other one?" I ask.

"Yes, he looks more like his son than his actual son does," she agrees.

"The other one might be a bastard, but he's still his son," I correct her. "Could you imagine that? If father had a bastard son? He would be our brother but at the same time, he wouldn't be our brother. I cannot imagine how difficult that was for their whole family."

"Most men do not raise their bastards," Margaery tells me. "Raising them does not magically rebuild the honor they have lost. He never should have had him in the first place."

"What, you believe father never had another woman other than mother?" I ask her, laughing.

"No, he had whores, I know that," Margaery admits. "But he has no bastards."

"For all we know, he has ten of them," I tell her.

"Precisely. Even if he has them, we know nothing."

* * *

"Clara! Are you even listening to me?" Willas asks and I snap my head to him.

"Yes, yes, of course I am." I lie.

"Oh, you are, aren't you?" He questions me, frowning. "What was I saying?" he asks.

"I have no idea," I admit, not bothering to think of a lie. Willas would not believe me, no matter what I said. "I'm sorry, Willas. My mind is… all over the place." I sigh.

"Yes, and so are your eyes," He tells me, earning a confused look. "Oh, please. You and Margaery might have your girly conversations, but I know you well. Better than you'd like, probably. You haven't stopped looking that way ever since you the feast started." He says, nodding his head in the direction I was looking at. As he always does, Willas read me like an open book. A lot of people seem to be doing that quite well, these days. Whatever happened to my ability to hide my emotions and thoughts?

"Alright dear brother," I sigh. "You are smart and you see right through me."

"Not all the way," Willas smiles at me. "See, I have noticed _where_ you were looking at, but I cannot quite see _who_ you were looking at." He tells me. Gods be damned, he's good. "Which one is it? The heir or the bastard? Or, perhaps, the Greyjoy?" He asks, smirking my way.

"Gods, you are like a younger, male version of Grandmother." I grunt.

"Ah, she would be so proud of you." Willas laughs.

"Would she now?" I ask, directing my attention towards the cup of wine in my hand. "Out of all the noble houses, most of which have their finest specimen right in this hall, I choose to look at them? I think her ghost would haunt me, as I would still disappoint her in the afterlife."

"Clara, I find that highly unlikely," he shakes his head at me. "So, who is the handsome fellow that caught your attention? Do tell, dear sister." He urges me. With Willas, at times I cannot tell if he is jesting or if he is serious. No one can tease me as well as he can.

"All of them," I admit. Willas raises an eyebrow at me before he bursts out laughing, making people turn their heads our way. I smile, pretending like everything is fine, before I kick my brother under the table, praying to Gods that I did not accidently kick his bad leg. "Stop it, Willas. I did not mean it like that."

"Oh, yes you did." He laughs. I will never hear the end of it.

"Willas, please," I sigh, rolling my eyes. "They are all… attractive in their own way. And you know how people are. When something is new and a bit unusual, we are all attracted to it, we all want to see what it's about. They are the newest addition to this mess. Of course my interest is peaked."

"Yes, yes, I understand," He shakes his head. "What I am truly wondering is why Greyjoy? Really?"

"Yes," I confirm, frowning and looking back to where I was looking before, at the three men sitting on the edge of the table, talking amongst themselves and looking as if all of this might be too much, more than they've bargained for. "He is not the most handsome out of the three, but look at him. He has the stature. The dark one looks away, the red one smiles and nods, acting like a proper lord and only Greyjoy shows any kind of emotion. He is confident." I point out.

"There is a difference between cocky and confident, Clara," He tells me. "Look at Oberyn."

He had a point. Oberyn was a confident man, but he never had to point out his confidence; it is something that came natural to him, as a part of him. Theon Greyjoy did not have such ease.

"Still, he is intriguing," I admit. "As are the other two, I have to say."

"Perhaps you should have this conversation with Loras?" Willas suggests and although I hit him on the shoulder, I bite my lip to prevent myself from laughing. The only thing Willas is better at than teasing me is teasing our younger brother and sister. To me, that is a far more enjoyable activity.

"No need for that, I'm afraid," I grin at him. "I look, but I do not touch."

"Huh, I'm afraid you might just have to," Willas comments, and before I could ask for clarification, I notice what he is looking at. Jaime Lannister was approaching our table and he was looking right at me.

"Lord Willas, Lady Clara," he greets us both with a nod as he approaches us. "What a marvelous feast you have prepared for us. More marvelous than the night before." He tells us.

"And what of the one from two nights ago?" I joke. I was surprised when both my brother and Ser Jaime chuckle at it; although I am not the master of jokes, I suppose they find this whole thing tiring, just as much as I do.

"Pale in comparison," Jaime tells us. "Could I ask for this dance, Lady Clara?" He asks.

"Of course. It would be an honor," I say as I stand up, making my way to him. When I was a child, I would spend hours on my feet, dancing through the whole feast, whether it was with a man or by myself. Now, I do not enjoy it, not nearly as much. I do not have two left feet, but I am not nearly as gracious as I once use to be. Every now and then, I would dance, but not like this, not in front of everyone. It was a secret of me and my siblings, not something as public as this. Nor was it as formal as this. Still, I could never refuse a dance, or a man from a noble house. Especially not a man that also happens to be a knight.

I smile at Jaime as he moves us through the crowd of other dancing partners; Margaery was smiling at Oberyn, looking not nearly as comfortable as I did when I danced with him. Oberyn pulls you in too close and holds you just a bit too tight. I was used to it, but my sister was not. Close to her, Loras danced with Martyna Lannister, Jaime's beautiful cousin. Loras was not enjoying his dance either, I am afraid.

I was. I would have preferred a conversation over a goblet of wine, but I enjoyed the dance.

"Are you excited about the tournament, Ser Jaime?" I ask him, knowing that silence could soon grow to be quite uncomfortable. Since he did not show any signs of planning to speak first, I had to take that upon myself. Luckily, I learned from the best. Our Grandmother may be the Queen of Thorns, but Margaery was the Queen of Meaningless Conversation.

In her defense, it wasn't her who made the conversation meaningless. The girl could find a topic with anyone; from a grief stricken mother to a war shaped warrior. Even with Dickon Tarly.

She taught me her ways, but I never seemed to master it as well as she has.

"Very much so, Lady Clara," he smiles. "And you?"

"Oh yes, I cannot wait to find myself in armor," I joke. Again, I was not expecting him to laugh but he does. "Ser Jaime, I am afraid tournaments are more fun for men than they are for women. We watch and we cheer. If we are lucky, we get a crown of winter roses by the end of it. Personally, I find the days before the tournament more fun. I get to speak to interesting people, dance with handsome knights…"

"Ah, and which group do I belong to?" He asks me.

"I am yet to decide," I say, feeling my smile grow. This was a change. A pleasant one, at that. Ever since I met him, he has been nothing but nice to me, which is why I never looked at him the way most people did. A Kingslayer, a Lannister, an intimidating knight… Yes, he is all of that. But he is also a nice man and a bloody good dancer and I believe that just now, he was trying to charm me.

"I must do my best then," he announces. To my complete surprise, he twirls me as we dance and I start laughing when he pulls me closer to himself. "Now?" he asks, smiling.

"Ser Jaime, are you drunk?" I ask. That sounded a lot better in my head.

"What makes you say that?" He asks through laughter. Thank Gods, he was not insulted. I have embarrassed myself enough for one day; I still felt guilt about what happened earlier with Lord Stark and his children. Well, his children, his warden and his bastard son, to be precise.

"You just seem to be… more fun. Smiling more than you did before." I explain.

"It's a celebration. I should celebrate, should I not?" He asks and I nod, laughing.

"Yes, you absolutely should. But you should smile more often as well. I think you're too serious when the King is around. Or perhaps it is your sister that makes you serious?" I suggest.

And there I go and do it again. I'm going to have to ask Margaery to sew my mouth shut.

"It is not my sister, or the King, Lady Clara," he tells me. He is still smiling, but I am afraid he is not as content as he was before my comment. "It is duty that makes a man dull."

"I never said dull, Ser Jaime," I say, hoping that my compliment might save me. "In all honesty, most men I had the pleasure of meeting were quite dull. Swords and women, women and swords…" I sigh.

"Well, men are very simple," he agrees. "No wonder you like speaking to my brother."

"Well, your brother is one of the more interesting ones," I agree with a small smile. "But you are no less interesting, Ser Jaime. I thought you might be drunk, because you were laughing and dancing. Laugh and dance more often, I would suggest." I say.

"Perhaps if you offer to be my dancing partner every night, I might just do that?" he suggests, smiling down. Gods, his eyes really are strikingly green. And he absolutely was trying to charm me.

"Anytime, Ser Jaime." I agree. "You are as good of a dancer as you are a knight."

"And you are good at lying," he tells me and I burst out laughing.

"I am, actually, but that was not a lie," I shrug. What Jaime Lannister wanted to say to me, I will never know, as the song stopped and before I know it, I was in Oberyn's arms and Margaery was in Jaime's.

"You again," I laugh at Oberyn. "Will you ever leave me alone?" I laugh.

"Never, my love." he promises.

"Keep it up and you will ruin all of my marriage prospects."

"Is my plan that obvious?" he smirks at me. He is… unbelievable. As soon as I think that I have seen or heard everything from him, he surprises me again. He is lucky. I actually like him and I do not find his moves insulting or annoying. If I had any less patience, this all would not go down well.

"Apparently, yes," I sigh. "Oberyn, I am serious. You are a dear friend, but I will never get married if they thing you bed me every night. So, if you are not going to marry me, and you already told me that you won't, keep your distance. At least when we are dancing." I warn him.

"Perhaps I have changed my mind." He shrugs.

"No, you haven't," I smile as I shake my head. "Just… play nice, Oberyn. Be fair."

"Even so, you will never marry the Kingslayer," he scoffs. "He has a pretty face, I'll give him that. But that sister of his has him in her lion claws."

Everyone knows how close the two of them are. I imagine that is what happens with twins. Oberyn does have a point there. If Jaime ever marries, it is obvious that his lady wife will have to struggle with the connection he has with his sister.

"How do you know? My father would be happy to hand me off to a Lannister," I tell him. "That would probably be the best possible option for him."

"Ser Jaime is a knight of the Kingsguard. He will not marry, not ever," Oberyn tells me. I knew that even before Oberyn pointed it out, but it would not be the first time that a knight left, took a land, a title and a wife. "And Mace Tyrell would never hand you over to the Imp."

"You do not know him," I shake my head. "He will hand me over to whoever gives the best offer. He would not care if it's Tyrion Lannister or if it's the King himself."

"And the Lady of Thrones will simply sit back, put her feet up and let him do it?" he asks me.

"Alright, now I have had it," I say as I pull away from him. "It's bad enough I have to think about it. I do not want to talk about it as well, and it seems to be your favorite topic these days. Unless you have a better conversation topic, Oberyn, keep away from me." I sigh as I walk away.

* * *

I could still hear the music and the laughter from the hall, and my chambers are on the completely opposite part of the castle. I have had my fill for the night. After my conversation with Oberyn, I stayed only for a little while, before excusing myself and making a swift exit. My parents have four children. They could survive with only the three of them entertaining guests for one night.

Under candlelight and with a cup of wine by my side, I sat on my balcony, quill in hand.

Sometimes I write, sometimes I draw, sometimes I just twirl the quill between my fingers, staring at the sky above me. Tonight, I wrote. I wrote, trying to ignore the chorus of noise, coming from the hall.

Not that many words formed in my mind. I caught myself simply staring at the parchment, with only six words written. Tonight is just not my night, just as today was not my day.

It started with the embarrassment with Lord Stark, followed by my poor choice of words whilst dancing with Ser Jaime. Finally, it ended with my quarrel with Oberyn. Well, I cannot say if that should be called a quarrel. I was the only one speaking and I ran away before Oberyn had a chance to respond.

It will be better in the morning.

No words will be written tonight.

I pull my robe closer to me, knowing that the wind can easily trick us; it does not feel as cold, but if you are not well covered, your nose will run tomorrow morning. More covered than before, I walk toward the edge of the balcony where I lean on it and look around at Highgarden.

There really is no place more magical than this one. I don't care what I see or what I do. Not only will Highgarden be my home, but it will always remain the best place in the whole of Westeros. At least as far as I am concerned.

I notice someone moving down the stairs bellow my balcony. Instinctively, I look down. I was not expecting to recognize the person walking; while my balcony was lit up with candles and torches, the stairs bellow only had a few torches at every other corner. It was fairly dangerous, seeing as most of our guests do not know Highgarden by hart, and some of the stairs can be quite steep. I look at the shadow and to my complete and utter surprise, I recognize it at once.

It was the stature. The stature and the hair.

I watch as Jon Snow, Lord Eddard Stark's bastard son, walks up and down the walls.

Wind blows and the torches on my balcony flicker. Of course, that draws his attention. Our eyes meet and while my first instinct was to look away, or even better, to crouch down and hide behind the bricks, I do not do it. I stay in my place and I keep my eyes on him.

The uncomfortable feeling I felt in me starts to grow. We stare at each other, not moving, not even nodding our heads to one another. He turns around and walks away, exactly one second before it became too uncomfortable.

Well, this was surprising.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello there guys. Wowza. 50 followers and only 4 chapters. I didn't keep a track of it, but this has to be a record of mine or something.**

 **Thank you for giving this a try. I will try to update as soon as I can.**

 **A lot of you have been pushing me (and I mean it, pushing :D ) to make this an Aegon/OC story. I am reading A feast for crows as of now, and if there's an Aegon before that, I did not see him. Yeah, I know very well who he is and I've seen the whole Griff thing, I did my research, but I've never read about the character. Basically, I know nothing. However, I do want to explore this and I am not saying "NO" to it just yet. I want to see where this will go to.**

 **By the end of this chapter, we will have one contender of the table for good. However, even if there is a clear favorite, that does not mean that will be end game. I am still exploring it and I am yet to pick for her :D You will see a good sentence by Olenna in this chapter and I think you'll know what I mean. It's all child's play. She is not Margery, to have men running and stumbling before her feet.**

 **I am yet to make a choice(man, it's like I'M the one that's getting married, not my OC), but as I said, one contender is of the table by the end of this chapter and I do hope you do not hate me for it. He will be a big part, for sure. Just not as a hubby.**

 **Anyways, if you read this, thank you for your attention *bows*. I hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think! :)**

* * *

Last night, I did not sleep well. I kept tossing and turning in my bed, thinking of too many things at once.

To make it all worse, I was thinking about men.

As someone who always held her head proud, saying that I am not interested in marriage or flirting with the possibilities, that was a hit for me. The fact that I was not thinking about one particular man only made it worse. My mind was torn, some names and faces appearing with more clarity than the others.

In all that mess, between all those men, one stood out and at least I had an explanation for it. Had it not been for that moment on my balcony, when mine and Jon's eyes met, I would not have been thinking of him as much as I did.

Out of all the possible matches, he is the worst possible choice. In fact, he is not possibility at all.

I do not know who my family will hand me over to, but I do know who they will _not_ hand me over to. A bastard son of a Lord could never be a possibility, let alone the strongest contender. Fully aware that that will never happen, no matter how much I might want it to, I could not keep Jon out of my mind. It was that look. He did not look away. When I saw him earlier, whenever I would sneak a look at him, he was not looking at me. And if, by chance, our eyes would meet, he would look away instantly. Last night, he did not do that. He stood in place and looked directly at me.

Whatever I used to think of myself before had now fallen into water. It would appear that I am easily impressed; all it takes is a long look in my direction.

This issue will be dealt with in my mind. Unfortunately, knowing that Jon would never be a possibility does not remove him out of my head. I can only hope that some of the other men that occupied it could make an impression, and soon; the sooner, the better.

As irony would have it, Jon is one of the first faces I saw today. I made a foolish decision of taking a walk close to the training pit, which would of course be occupied, given that the tournament is right around the corner. Jon was in the pit, along with Robb Stark and Theon Greyjoy. Of course he was.

I almost ran away, from them and from it, before I remembered that even if I had proven myself to be weaker than I thought before, I am not a coward. I'll be damned if I let three boys scare me away on my own territory. Especially since they did not even look my way.

My moment of weakness was only that; a moment. With a smile on my face, I make my way down to the pits. I do not venture into the actual pits; my dress is long and it does not go well with mud. I take my place in the same place I will be when the actual tournament starts; the highest platform, where I will be seated with the remainder of my family. I lean on the edge of the balcony and I watch them.

Jon Snow was standing by the side, waiting for his turn, I imagine, as Robb Stark and Theon Greyjoy were currently battling one another, using dull swords and shields. As I watch the two of them, I realize that Robb was obviously a better fighter. Theon was far from a bad fighter, at least to my inexperienced eyes, but Robb had the upper hand. I imagine he also had more training.

As I watch, Robb manages to knock Theon's sword out of his hand and smiles, proud of himself.

I start clapping my hands, causing all three of them to look up in surprise. Once again, they prove my suspicions. Jon is the one that looks away, Robb is the one with a kind smile and Theon is the one with a smirk. I, for one, did not know where to look.

"Lady Clara," Robb gives me a nod of his head. "What brings you here?"

"I was bored," I shrug. "When I heard a swordfight, I thought I might enjoy one."

"I am afraid we might disappoint you." Robb tells me.

"Speak for yourself," Theon speaks up. "I know what I am doing." He smirks my way before picking up his sword from the ground and attacking his friend. Robb was ready and he defended himself from Theon; a smile did not leave his face. Unlike him, Theon actually seemed to put in some effort. Once again, I see that he knows what he is doing with a sword, but Robb is simply better. It was not an even fight, not from where I am standing. In a matter of moments, Robb has knocked Theon's sword out of his hand yet again; not only did he knock the sword, but he also made Theon stumble, nearly falling. He managed to stay on his feet, but he did not look pleased.

"You must forgive him, Lady Clara," Robb smiles at me. "He tends to lose his footing when there is a pretty woman around." He tells me. It does not escape my notice that Theon glared at him.

"Huh," I sigh, nodding my head. "And what about you, Lord Robb? Am I not pretty enough to make you lose your footing?" I ask, raising my eyebrow at him. He was not expecting that.

"No," Robb shakes his head, speaking fast. "No, no, Lady Clara. That is not what I was implying…" he starts. I smile at his confusion, and I hear a laugh, coming from Theon, without a doubt.

"I am only jesting you, Lord Robb," I smile, watching as he breaths out a sigh of relief. "That remark was too good for me to simply ignore it," I add. Theon was laughing at Robb. I remember what Willas told me the night before; there is a difference between being cocky and being confident. Theon was cocky and to make matters worse, he was cocky without anything to fall back on. "I would not laugh if I were you. At least Lord Robb doesn't lose his footing as soon as a skirt passes by."

Not only does Robb laugh, but so does Jon. I smile proudly as Theon's eyes narrow at me.

As intriguing as he might have been, I have a suspicion that I will no longer be directing glances his way.

"I bid you goodbye, my Lords," I nod, smiling before I turned to walk away. I stop at the last step that leads out of the pit. "Theon, do keep an eye for the rubble. It can be dangerous."

I smile proudly as I walk away, listening to Jon and Robb laughing.

Us women are a strange thing, drawn by the strangest of behaviors. There is no doubt in my mind that I am not the only one who found Theon attractive, even with that smirk of his.

Luckily for me, I had my big brother to warn me in time. Not to mention that a Greyjoy would not be something my Grandmother would be satisfied with.

If I am to play this game as it should be played, I should stop wasting my time on men that are not ready to play the game with me. Oberyn made the game and he was already playing it, even if I highly doubt that he would seriously consider the prospect of a marriage between the two of us. Tyrion and Jaime… I doubt it. My family would not be happy to see me by Tyrion's side and I doubt Jaime likes me well enough to even consider giving up the Kingsguard for me. The only other possible players are Robb Stark and perhaps Edmure Tully, and neither one of them showed a particular interest for playing.

How ironic is it? All this talk about a marriage, all of this, crowding my mind, and no one actually wants to marry me? This is as pathetic as it is confusing.

No wonder Jon Snow caught my eye. He is the only one that expressed any kind of interest in me, even if it was no more than one long, strange look.

* * *

I admire my Grandmother. I also find her very amusing. I beam with pride when someone tells me I remind them of the young Olenna Tyrell, if only for my tongue. Out of all the possible female role models I could grow up with, I grew up with the best one.

But the Queen of Thorns was not always nice. When she wanted something, she knew how to get it and better yet, she knew exactly what to say or do, to make someone else get it for her. She would barely even lift a finger. While I admired here and loved her dearly, there was a part of her that I was genuinely afraid of. She had a look she would give to someone that has crossed her, and that was about to fall victim to one of her thorns. She had that look now, as she was watching me.

When she invited me to dine with her, I suspected nothing. When I arrived and realized that I am the only one of my siblings that she invited, I realized that I might just be in over my head. Now, her eyes are narrow as she watches me in suspicion and I just know I managed to do something wrong.

"Will you tell me what wrong I did or will you just keep strangling me with your eyes?" I ask when her look becomes unbearable. The only way you can save yourself if you are up against Olenna Tyrell is if you show your teeth before she finishes you. If you do that, you may just survive.

"Out of all the possible men you could spend time with, you chose the Red Viper, The Kingslayer, The Imp and the Northerners," she says and I could hear judgment in every single word that came out of her mouth. "Have I taught you nothing?" she asks me.

I should have seen this coming. It was absolutely predictable. Of course she would know, of course she would interfere and of course she would remind me that everything I have and everything I know is because she gave me and she taught me. Once again, I can only be amazed at my own stupidity. Especially because I thought I was doing nothing wrong. I thought she would be happy, but apparently, I was doing the right thing, only with the wrong people. Wrong people in her opinion.

"You have taught me plenty," I shake my head in disagreement. "One of the things you have taught me is to always be a nice little Lady, keeping my opinions to myself. I should treat everyone with dignity and respect, and if I do feel the need to roll my eyes at someone, I should do it behind their back."

"I didn't teach you to dance with the Kingslayer."

"What was I supposed to do? Decline and swat his hand away?" I ask.

"No. Not looking like a fool in love would have been helpful."

"Grandmother, I am not in love with Jaime Lannister and I can assure you that you are the only one who thinks I might be. I simply danced and talked to him. Just because I do not despise him as the rest of the realm does, does not mean that I want him to marry me. And if that is what you think I want, I assure you, I do not." I tell her. Jaime is a beautiful man and kinder than most would imagine. At least with me, that is. But beauty and kindness are not enough. And, as Oberyn so kindly reminded me the night before, he is in the Kingsguard. It would be possible for him to leave it, become the heir to Casterly Rock and take a wife, but it would take great effort. I do not think Jaime Lannister likes me enough to do so.

"And what about you, gawking at the Stark boy and his companions earlier today?"

"How do you even know about that?" I ask in surprise.

"Darling, the sooner you realize that I know everything, the better for you," she sighs, shaking her head in disappointment. "Why them?"

If she knew everything, as she claims to do, we would have a different conversation. There are many, many things Grandmother knows nothing about, especially about her grandchildren. Provoking or challenging her could only end badly for me, so I do not do that. If she was to know there was more, she would dig until she would find the gold. After all, she already knows more than I want her to.

"For one, I was not gawking," I sigh. "I saw them training and I approached them. I am sure father, Willas, Margaery or Loras would have done the same. I simply spoke to them and left. I was not gawking and rest assured, I did not look in love."

"What you imagine you look like and what the others see can often be two very different things."

"Yes, they can. And I imagine they often are, but it was not like that today. Whatever your little foot soldiers told you, whoever you had spying on me… they are wrong. What they saw today was me being a good host. Nothing more, nothing less. I did nothing wrong." I tell her.

She stares at me for a moment. As much as I wanted to turn my head, I do not do it. If you look away from her, she will end you. If there is one thing she cannot stand, it is people without a backbone.

"You are more gullible than I thought," she shakes her head. I could hear the disappointment in her voice too. "You are doing everything wrong."

"What am I doing wrong? Enlighten me, please, because I do not understand." I snap.

"You are charming them and you are doing it well," she tells me. "You are a charming person by nature, so it does not seem as if you are trying hard to do it. You are charming them and they all like you, but none of them want to marry you. The Kingslayer wants to dance with you, but he would never marry you. The Red Viper wants to bed you, not to marry you. If you think differently, you are stupid."

"You do not know that," I shake my head. "You do not know it and neither do I."

"Yes, I know it. I know it because I know men!" she snaps at me. "He wants you in his bed, not in his life. Gods only know what the Kingslayer wants. And the rest of them might be attracted to you but they do not want to marry you and that is where you are wrong."

"Grandmother, please!" I gasp, sounding as if I exploded. "This is not a game of marriage! My life is not a game! I am not trying to trick anyone into marrying me! And even if I did, what good would that be, when you will end up choosing for me? Stop it, please. I have had enough."

"And that is what you do not understand!" She yells. She does not yell, not at me at least. Well, she did not used to. Times have changed. "We cannot give you to anyone if no one asks for your hand! They need to ask for your hand first. We cannot push you on them. Someone needs to ask first, Clara. And no one will ask if all they want to do is to bed you for one night and forget about you the morning after."

I understand that she is saying these words to help me, in her own, unique way, and not as an insult. I know that, just as I know how easy on insults she is. I know this is her, trying to make me see sense, even if it is only her sense, her point of you. Knowing all of that, it all still sounded like a mean insult.

She is telling me that I am not enough. Hearing that you are not enough? It doesn't matter how much confidence you have, how sure of yourself you are. Hearing that you are not enough is the worst thing one could hear. Especially when it comes from the mouth of a loved one.

"What do you want me to do, then?"

She will not back down. The only way I could save my own sanity is if I am the one that backs down. I will do as she says. It is easier that way. When you know you cannot win a battle, perhaps it is better if you just drop your sword to the ground, surrender and keep your life.

"Choose one," she tells me, and this time, her voice was calmer. Nice, even. She can be nice as much as she wants. I will never forget what she said before. "Choose one of them and focus on them. Not Oberyn, not the Kingslayer. Not the Imp. They will never marry you, darling. They are a waste of time and will not help you in any way. Choose one and make him fall in love with you. Only if they think they love you, they will ask for your hand. Men ask for a woman's hand, that is true. But it is the woman that makes them ask for her hand. Not with those words, oh no. We never ask. We do. We make them think that no one would be a better mother, that no one would be a better Lady, that no one would ever be a better lover. We make them think that with us, they will forget everyone else. That after one night, no woman will ever be enough, but us. That is what we do. And that is why they ask." She tells me.

Or, they want to have an alliance. Not all marriages are based on love. Not all are based on passion.

"Who do you want me to choose then?" I ask, knowing that my opinion does not matter. I would rather have Tyrion, Oberyn or Jaime over Dickon and the likes of him. I tried to say that, but she did not listen. If my choice does not matter, why does she act like it does? She can take her pick, I will play her game. I am probably going to end up with a miserable life as it is.

"I want you to choose a man that is your height," she tells me. "A man that does not have eight bastard daughters. A man that does not sleep with his sister when he thinks no one is watching."

"Grandmother!" I hiss, looking around, hoping that no one could hear us.

"Darling, we are in my own chambers."

"You are the one who told me never to be too careful, not even in my own home," I remind her. I cannot believe she just said that. There had been rumors, and with a brother who was at King's Landing often, for his own lover, we knew more than most. Loras had no proof, he saw nothing, but he had every reason to believe it was true, just as we had every reason to believe him. Be that as it may, we were always very quiet, never talking about it openly. And now Grandmother just goes and says it out loud, with the subject of our conversation being in the very same castle that we are in. "You cannot talk about such things. Rumor or not, we do not talk about it."

"Defend him all you like, darling. You know what you believe in."

"Who do you want me to choose?" I ask her again, hoping she would not go back to the former subject.

If someone had heard her talking about the Queen and her brother like that, she would have her head on a spike. I may not enjoy her company at all times, or her words, but I do not want to see her dead.

I don't care if it is the truth or not. It does not affect me in any way. And as she just pointed out, Jaime has no intention of ever marrying, certainly not me, so there is no way for it to affect me in the future. All I know and all I care for is that Jaime has always been nothing but kind. Out of the respect I have for him and his younger brother, I do not go around spreading rumors, as true as they may be. Not to mention that I would not like to have my head on a spike either.

"Someone better than that," she tells me.

"Give me a damned name." I order, as my cup was overflowing now. "Give me a name."

"Stark. Tully. And if you are mad enough, Martell."

"Did you not just poke fun at me for, gawking at the Northerners, as you said it?" I ask.

"It is one thing to make Robb Stark feel attraction towards you, and another to look like a foolish little girl in love, in front of his friends, at that." She tells me. Whoever offered her that piece of information clearly did not wait long enough to hear me teasing them, all of them. Well, Robb and Theon. I did not tease Jon. Whoever is the one working as my Grandmother's eyes and ears is not doing a good job and is giving her false material. Material she uses to embarrass me, even insult me.

"Very well," I sigh as I stand up. "If I may be excused.

"Why leave so soon?" she asks, and to her credit, she looks genuinely surprised. It amazes me how she cannot see how elegantly she has pushed me of the edge. "Where are you going?"

"Away from you."

I think this is the first time I have been openly rude to her. And she deserved it.

* * *

"If you are here to talk about what I think you want to talk about, please, avoid me," I mumble, staring at the goblet in my hand. "I have already warned you, I've had a horrible day and I have had one cup too many." I say and Oberyn chuckles as he takes a seat across the table from me. I was enjoying my night, away from the crowd on the excuse of feeling unwell. It was perfect, until he showed up.

"I am here to talk about whatever you want to talk about, my love," he tells me. "I was worried. You were not at the feast and I can assure you, your absence was not unnoticed."

"Oh, I am sure my many suitors cried tears all night."

"Why are you talking about your marriage when you do not want to talk about your marriage?" he asks me in irritation. And I understand why. I say one thing and do another. I have been doing that quite a lot lately. Knowing how annoyed I am when people around me do that, I really need to stop it. "You need to make a decision, my love. I will follow you, whichever one you choose."

"Oberyn, I know you will not marry me. Let me finish, please," I ask of him, raising my hand to stop him, as I saw that he was ready to speak up. He closes his mouth and nods. "I know that will not happen. You told me before that I am contradictory and you have been the same; one thing you say this, the other day, you say that. I can it feel it in my bones; I know that that will not happen, but I want to hear it from you. I need to hear it from you and we must close that book together, once and for all. You will either ask for my hand in marriage, or we will stop it all. I cannot play this game if I am playing on too many fronts. If you are going to marry me, let's just finish the game. If not, let me take my troops and leave for another battlefield, because I'm running low on strength." I tell him.

I was not expecting to have this conversation and I certainly did not think I would be the one who start it. He is my friend and I know I can tell him the truth. As a friend, it is not fair of him to treat me like a pray, to play with my feelings and my options, changing his mind as soon as the sun goes down and then again, when the sun rises. I deserve more than that and he as a friend should be able to provide it.

"I will not marry you." He sighs.

"I am sure Ellaria will forgive you for not bringing me back with you," I say, in the hopes of adding some joy to this conversation; it works, as he chuckles at my words. "Alright. Now I know. I know what to do."

"What do to?" he asks me in confusion.

"I need to focus on one," I explain. "And that one will not be you. So, the numbers are lower now."

"Who will you focus on then?" he asks me.

"I do not know and that is the problem." I admit. "I am literally not _allowed_ to focus on the Lannisters, for various reasons. I absolutely refuse to focus on Dickon Tarly."

"You don't have many options then, do you, my love? The Stark boy, right?"

"And his uncle, Edmure Tully," I add. To my surprise, Oberyn laughs. "What?" I ask him.

"You do not want the Tully," he shakes his hand, sounding way too confident as I have never spoken to him about Edmure Tully. But that is Oberyn; he sounds confident about everything. "For some reason I cannot fathom, you are attracted to the Northerners, aren't you? I've seen it. I can smell it."

"Oh, you can't smell anything," I snap in annoyance, making him laugh. "I feel nothing."

"No, you do not love the boy, but you are attracted," he shakes his head. "Although I prefer the Dornish heat, I see what you see as well. He has his… qualities." He adds, causing me to raise an eyebrow at him. "I will help you."

"Help me how?" I ask him in confusion.

"I will help you seduce him." he tells me. As simple as that. He says as if he just promised to help me find a book I was looking for, or something as trival as that, and not seducing a man grown.

"Oberyn," I start, taking a deep breath to calm myself. "I was not raised in Dorne. If I was a Dornish woman, I'm sure I would be happy to learn the act of seduction from you. You people… you take passion with seriousness. You are proud of it and you love it. As you should. I am sure it is amazing, and I know that it is normal for you. But it is not normal for me. I was raised in a different way. We do not sleep with men before marriage, Oberyn. I cannot seduce someone if I am not married, and even then, the only person I am allowed to seduce is my husband. I can't just… let him bed me and hope for a marriage."

"Who said anything about bedding?" he asks me in surprise. "I said seduction, my love. Seduction and sex are two very, very different things. And your ways will come in handy." He adds, smiling.

"I cannot understand a single word of what you are saying." I admit, making him laugh yet again.

"Love, nothing can make a man's blood boil than a woman he can't have," he tells me. "If he wants you and cannot have you, and you show him that you want him as well, in the most elegant of ways, I promise you, you will have his cloak, his name and his children. If you know how to make him want you, truly want you, he will stop at nothing to have you." he tells me. I feel the hair on my arms stand up, just listening to his words. It sounded like a poem, even if he was speaking about the most animalistic parts of a human nature. But he is right. Men are simple.

"Margaery always says that there is a fine line a lady can't cross."

"Love, I've seduced more men than your sister, I can assure you," Oberyn tells me. Well, that is one way for him to prove his worth. "Let me help you. Let me teach you. The Stark boy will be eating out of your hand by the end of the tournament, and all the while, he will not even realize what you have done."

"Oberyn… that sounds very interesting and fun, if I am being honest, but I do not have that power," I shake my head. I might be nice, charming and pretty on the eyes, but I am not seductive. I am as seductive as a dead fish is. I would panic every time Oberyn would flirt with me, for the love of Gods! If anyone knows I am not seductive, it is this man, the man that claims he could teach me.

"Oh, you have it love," he shakes his head. "It is very raw and unpolished, but you have it. You know how to use it too. With a little more practice and a little more guidance, you will be unstoppable."

"You want to help me seduce a man?" I ask, still unsure if he was serious or not. He sounded and looked quite serious to me, but this is Oberyn. I can never know what he is thinking, even if he says it out loud.

"Yes. And I will help you. And we shall be successful." He promises.

"Alright then."

The Red Viper, the Prince of Dorne, the man who did not hold back at his attempts to get me into bed with him and his paramour, the men who flirted shamelessly with me has just offered me his help in seducing a man I don't even know if I like. And I accepted it.

This will either be the best or the worst thing that has ever happened to me.

I will try to seduce Robb Stark. Even though he is not the Northerner I keep thinking of.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello you guys, I'm back with a new chapter.  
First off, I would like to respond to one of the guest reviews I have received on the previous chapter. I left out Garlan Tyrell on purpose. Basically, Clara is his replacement in this story. It might have been a bad choice, but having five siblings would have been a bit too much "Keeping up with the Tyrells" for me. To be fair, in the books, we do not see much of Willas, so I will… merge his and Garlan's character. As I pointed out back in chapter 1, Willas and Clara are the A time. While she loves and gets along well with Margaery and Loras, it has always been, and always will be, Clara and Willas. **

**Now, I can officially say that I have made my decision about the pairing. And I'm not going to say it just yet. I want it to be a surprise to you. You will realize soon enough, I think. Especially since the hints will be pretty obvious. I do have a bit of information. There will be more than one pairing. One will be the "true love" pairing, while the other… Well, it's the Game of Thrones. Margaery got married three times, men drop like flies, and betrothals get broken all the time.**

 **You'll see. Trust me on this. It'll be EPIC.  
I hope you enjoy this chapter. I will try to update again over the weekend. Let me know what you think! :)**

* * *

 _The first lesson is the easiest. You already know the skill, but if you want to succeed, you must master the art. I will not talk about your clothing; that is a given. Show skin, without revealing too much. After all, he will not be dying to find what's under it if he had already seen it. Now, first lesson. Smile. All you need to do is smile. At another man, of course. At every man, to be precise. I need you to smile and laugh, as if your companion had just told you the funniest joke you have ever heard. Do not smile too much; you do not want them running after you as well. Every time you see your little wolf boy, make sure he thinks you are charmed by another man. Jealousy? It does wonders._

* * *

Oberyn insisted on timing. He would not teach me more until he sees me master one lesson.

Personally, I found it ridiculous. I know how to smile. I know how to make men think I am weak at knees for them. After all, I did learn from the best. If anyone can do that to a man, it is my sister.

However, I have never applied it on another man; I never needed jealousy to be my weapon. That was new to me, but I had no doubt that I would master it within hours. Even so, Oberyn reassured me that the art of seduction must be gradual and that I cannot do it all at the same time.

If it was anyone else, I would have rolled my eyes and walked away. Oberyn, however, is more passion than he is meet and bones. Compared to him, Margaery's arts are child's play.

As ridiculous as it was, I have agreed to it. I agreed to the stupid plan, even if I didn't want to. For someone who doesn't want to do this, I sure did spend a lot of time looking for Robb Stark.

"It will never work if we do not find the wolf boy," Oberyn shakes his head as we walk down the stairs, our arms linked. He agreed to be my helper for the day. If I am to make Robb Stark interested in me and jealous of another man, I needed another man. Oberyn was the best solution; he had time, he was bored and more than that, he knew what I was doing. As he told me himself, other men might fall along the way, and he would not allow for that to happen with him. While I think he has more faith in me than I deserve, I happily agreed. If I was to take Jaime Lannister under his arm, I would have to have a reason. Oberyn needed no reasons. "It is as if he is hiding from you, knowing what awaits him."

"I find that highly unlikely," I roll my eyes, making him laugh. I smile proudly when I see what I had been looking for, before turning proudly to Oberyn. "See? I told you we would find him here." I beam.

"Yes," he says, looking down at the training pit. Robb was there again, with the same companions that joined him the day before. "He is a good looking man, I'll admit."

"I thought you were teaching me how to seduce a man, not practicing your own seduction tactics."

"My love, worry not," he laughs. "I shall not take your man. Now, what do you do?" he asks me. Despite his heavy accent and sultry voice, his question made him sound a lot like Septa Ava, the one who taught Margaery and I when we were children. Comparing Oberyn to an old woman was not a good idea.

"I walk by, ignore him completely," I respond, going over the instructions he gave me last night, whilst we were drinking on my balcony. "Unless he greets me, at which I respond, before ignoring him again. I walk past, laughing as if you told me the best joke I have ever heard." I say.

"Yes," Oberyn confirms. "Control your laughter. You must sound like you find me humorous and charming, not as if you are going to spread your legs for me afterwards."

"Gods, is it truly so complicated?" I sigh.

"It is," he smiles. "This is only the first lesson. The first out of many."

"How many?"

"Too many. Now, walk," he tells me as he starts leading the way. We were walking close enough for them to notice us, which would not be difficult, given that Oberyn was wearing bright, orange clothing. They will notice us, but we will not be close enough to engage in a conversation. "Laugh."

I do as he said. I laugh, even touching him on the shoulder, as he smiles at me. I fight the urge to look down at the pits, knowing that the most important part of all of this was not to make eye contact with Robb. I smile, shaking my head, acting as if Oberyn was charming me all the way to Dorne and back.

"Good, very good," he nods his head approvingly. "Now you only have to do it at least five more times." He tells me. My eyes go wide. "I'm joking."

"I want to kill you," I tell him with the sweetest smile, knowing I should keep my act up. It works; Oberyn was laughing not as well, and he was not even pretending. This might be even better. Not only does it look like he is my favorite man in the entire world, but it also might appear as if I was quite funny as well. Which I am, in all honesty, but Robb Stark does not know that yet. "Lesson two, please."

"Not yet," he tells me as we continue our walk. Both of us visibly relax as we walk away from the pits and away from their attention. "You need to do it again. As many times as you can. The more men, the better. We will save lesson two for the feast." He tells me.

"Is it not too much if I do it with different men?" I ask, to which he shakes his head.

"No. I told you; you are laughing, not spreading your legs."

"But why wait for tonight?" I ask. "Shouldn't we bend iron while it's hot?"

"Patience, my love," he smiles at me. "You must learn how to be patient. Iron will still be hot tonight, worry not. Soon enough, iron won't be the only thing that's bending."

I am not sure what he means by that, but I am absolutely sure that it is something I do not want to know. With a man like Oberyn, the less I know, the better.

* * *

"I never thought a day would come when I would be happy for my injury," Willas sighs, eyeing the people before us. "The day has come. At least I do not have to dance."

"Don't make me wish I had an injury as well," I mumble in response, making my brother laugh.

There was no holding back. Every feast is more lavish than the one before, as impossible as it may seem. Somehow, they bring more. More singers, more wine, more fruit, mead and meat. More musicians and more fools, more dancers and more flowers; roses more than anything else.

It does not look like a tournament; it looks like a parade of our wealth. We had plenty of it, yes. But it is one thing to have it and another one to display it without holding back, for the whole world to see. As spontaneous as it may seem to an innocent bystander, I knew this had to be planned in advance.

People know we have money and they know we want to have fun? Why try so hard to prove ourselves? Of course, I could think that my family wants nothing more than to give their friends and allies a good time. Then again, I know my family better than most. Leaving a good and lasting impression is important for them. At first, I thought it was because of my pending marriage. Now I have a suspicion that it was a mistake. But if it isn't my marriage, what is it?

"It will all be over soon."

We've been saying those words far too often. I've said them myself, I heard Margaery say them, I've heard Willas say them. As enjoyable as it is at times, the truth of the matter is that we all want this to be over. It is tiring. I do not have any time for myself. I am here, every night. I walk and talk and laugh all day. At times, I even try to seduce a man. The only time that I am alone is when I am about to go to bed. I would not complain about having company, not usually. I love being with my family, with my friends. At those times, it is not a duty, an obligation. Now, it is. Which kills the joy of it all.

"Yes, it will."

"You seem strange," Willas tells me; I give him a questioning look. He stares at me with a frown of his face. "What is wrong? Something is not right, is it Clara?" he asks.

Being close to your siblings is a double edged sword. On one hand, you have someone to talk to, someone to support you through everything and to give you advice whenever you need it. On the other hand, you cannot hide anything from them. Whatever you say, whatever you do, no matter how good of a liar you are, they will know. They will know the truth and in most situations, they will not think twice before they force the truth out of you.

I'm the weakest one of us. Margaery can read me with very little effort. Loras as well. Willas? Willas does not even have to look at me. He knows how I breather. I could never fool him, no matter how hard I tried.

"Grandmother," I tell him. "She is not right."

Well, she is only the physical manifestation of my troubles.

"What did she do now?" Willas sighs, knowing how frank Olenna Tyrell could be, if needed.

"She simply said out loud all the things I've thought she had on her mind."

"About marriage?" Willas asks and I nod, taking a sip of my wine. "Do not listen to her, Clara. If you want to keep your sanity, you shouldn't let it get to you."

"That is easier said than done," I shake my head. "After all, she is right. What she said is correct. It is simply the choice of her words that added salt to the wound."

"What did she say?"

"That all of them like me, but that none of them want me as their wife," I admit. The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret it. As honest as I always was with Willas, some things I should simply keep to myself. "Forget it," I shake my head. "Don't mind me, Willas. I'm being a foolish girl, that's all."

"You are not," he shakes his head at me, taking me by the hand. "What you are feeling is normal. I feel the same. I do not feel proud to admit it, but it is the truth. I am an heir to Highgarden. That should be enough to make a marriage deal easy. But I am also a cripple, Clara. What girl would want a cripple?"

"Willas, stop it," I warn him. "Do not talk to yourself in such a way!"

"How come you can talk about yourself in a negative way, and I cannot do the same?" he asks me. I want to have an argument, I want to say something to defend my ways, but I cannot think of anything. He is right. If we look at it from that point of view, I am a hypocrite. "You are jumping in my defense because you are my sister. You know me and you love me. You would always jump to my defense, if it was someone else attacking me, or if it's me that is doing it. And I do the same for you. The same way you jump up and order me to stop, the same I will do for you. That is what siblings do."

"I am not saying it just because I am your sister," I disagree. "I am saying it because I know you well. I am saying it because I know that there isn't a man in this hall that has a bigger heart than yours. This is not only sisterly love speaking out of me, Willas. Do not try to convince yourself of that."

"Then perhaps you will listen to me," he smiles. "I am not only speaking as your brother. You are a kind, smart, lovely young woman. There is not a bone in your body that is selfish. Whatever you do, you first make sure that no one would be affected in a negative way. You think of others more than they ever think of you. I don't know if your future husband is in this hall or not. He could be at the end of Westeros, not having any idea that one day, he will be your husband. Whoever he is, he will be one lucky man and he will know it. Whether they only like you, whether they want to marry you… none of them are worthy of you. And I am not saying this only because I am your older brother."

I wanted to believe him. It would be a lovely thing to believe. But he knows me better than anyone else will ever know me. When I marry and when I spend 20 and more years with my husband, my brother will still know me better. Although he claims to see all these things, no one else can see them.

As Grandmother said, they all want me, but none of them truly want me.

"Ah, who gives a shit," I sigh, earning a surprised look from my brother. "Am I truly going to fall so low to let myself feel bad because no one has expressed a particular desire of asking for my hand in marriage? I am not that girl, am I?"

"No, you are not," Willas agrees. "You are not that girl."

"Exactly. So, if I am not that girl, why am I acting like that girl?" I ask. "To hell with all of them. I will choose one and if he wants me, good. If not, i will move on. I will not let them or Grandmother make me miserable." I decide. I have had it. I know I will not have a chance to run away from all the marriage talk, but the very least I can do is to stop myself from being miserable while it lasts.

My husband will not be my life. There will be more, there will always be more. Even if I fall madly in love, there will always be more. No man, father, brother, husband or son, will ever be the only thing in my life. I will still be myself. There will always be more people I care about, more people I love. If they will not be the center of my life then, why in the name of Gods should they be the center of it now?

I made my pick. For reasons I cannot quite explain, my sights are set on Robb Stark. And out of sheer curiosity, I will try and see if Oberyn's ways are successful. If they are, I will see where it takes me. If not, my life will continue before this was thrust upon me.

"Now, this is something I approve of," Willas smiles proudly, before waving over my shoulder. "Oberyn, my friend. Would you care to join us? We are talking about how men are shit."

"Oh, darling, you have had too much wine," I say, trying to move Willas's cup away from him. He stops me and I laugh; he is not drunk enough for me to worry. "Alright. Don't come running to me if you end up in trouble with our dear Grandmother."

"If I want to get drunk, I bloody well will," he rolls his eyes. "Now, Oberyn, care for a drink?"

"No, my friend, I have had enough," Oberyn smiles. Oberyn Martell, refusing a drink? This has to be a first. "In fact, I was wondering if I could steal your sister for a little while?"

"Only if you tell me why."

"I am helping her seduce Robb Stark," Oberyn states, as calm as ever. My eyes go wide. "I am afraid we have not made enough progress yet."

Willas looks at me in surprise. Knowing how well he knows me, I prayed to Gods that I managed to hide my reaction fast enough for it to go unnoticed, even by my brother.

"He is joking," I shake my head. When Willas looks away from me, I shoot Oberyn a warning look. While I admire him for speaking the truth at all times, I think he needs to develop a talent of choosing when to speak the truth and when to avoid it. "What do you really want, Oberyn?"

"A dance, my love?" he suggests. At least he could understand that he had made a mistake.

"That I can give you," I say. "Easy on the wine, brother." I warn Willas as I step away from the table.

"Oh, I will keep an eye on it!" Willas promises, causing both Oberyn and myself to laugh. I walk over to Oberyn, grab him by the hand and do not say a word until we are between other dancing couples. I let him put his hands on me, pull me closer and then I give him my most angelic smile.

"What in the name of Gods were you thinking?" I ask, sounding as sweet as I possibly could. "You cannot just come up and say those things to people. I know it's the truth," I jump up, guessing what he was going to say in his defense. I was right; he closes his mouth. "It is the truth, but it is also something I do not want everyone to know."

"Willas is your brother. Why not trust him?" he asks me.

"Oh, I would trust Willas with my life," I laugh. "It is not a matter of trust. It is a matter of dignity."

"There is nothing undignified with trying to seduce a man."

"In this situation, it is," I say. Oberyn raises his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation. An explanation I did not really have. I stay silent for a few moments, as I think of a response. "For one, I am no longer a child. I should not have a teacher, not for this. Not for anything, really. Also, a man is teaching me. If it was my sister, I would not be as ashamed as I am now."

"Margaery knows nothing," Oberyn laughs. "The girl is pretty and charming, but is she interesting? Not to me, and believe me, my love, I find everyone and everything interesting. I told you this before, men are simple creatures. They run after her. I am certain your sister is intelligent, but I do not think she can compare to you. What would you rather go for? Something that is easy or something that is difficult?"

"What are you saying?" I ask him.

"Your sister doesn't know how to seduce a man because she never had to seduce a man," Oberyn smiles at me. "How do you expect someone to teach you if they do not know it themselves? No, Clara. This is normal. This is human nature. What you are trying to do to him? It is not a trick. It is not a lie. It is you and him, being human beings. You are asking for his attention and he is giving you his attention. Why? It's not because you are beautiful, even if you are. It's not because your family is rich, even if we all know they are. It is not your brain, your face, your name… there is no reason. It is human nature. And now it is time for lesson two."

"What?" I ask in surprise. "Did you not say I had to wait?"

"I did," he nods. "And you waited. I watched you tonight. You did not look once in his direction. That is why it is time for lesson two."

"How am I supposed to know what to do when I do not know what is lesson two?" I snap.

"Easy, love," Oberyn tells me, smirking down at me. I think he enjoys it when I snap. The man has some very strange preferences. "You will turn around; you will look directly at him. Not in his direction, not at one of his friends. Directly at him, into his eyes. You will count to five and then, you will look at me." he explains. I thought he was joking. I realize he is not, when he does not laugh.

"And then?" I ask.

"Then nothing," Oberyn shrugs. "That is lesson two. In due time, we will get to lesson three."

"So, I just turn around and look directly at him?" I ask.

"And count to five," Oberyn nods his head. "I will turn you know." He warns me. I agree with a nod and once he turns me around, I look directly at the table Robb was seated at. I was positive that it would take me a while to catch him looking at me. To my surprise, it does not take me any time at all; he was already looking my way.

As it was happening, I realize just why this was lesson two. I am the one that looks away. It is a habit of mine. When my eyes meet with a man I am interested in, in any way, it is normal for me to look away.

Based on my own experience, it is rarely the man that looks away. After all, they are raised knowing that they should be stronger than us, braver than us. If a man was to look away, he would be considered week. Even if no one else sees him do it, he would be considered week, shy and a coward, which is not something a man wants to be.

It is ridiculous. It should not be like that. We are all different. Man or woman, some are shy and some are not. None of us should be pressured into keeping eye contact with someone.

I knew he would not look away. As I was staring at him, I could see his eyes grow wider, if only for a little, when I did not look away either.

Robb Stark is a handsome man. He has beautiful eyes, nice hair and all in all, a very nice face. It is hardly torture to look at him. Tall and with broad shoulders, he is also the heir of one of the largest and most powerful houses in all of Westeros. Women look at him all the time. Women look at him, dream of him and swoon, if he ever looks at them as well. Women look at him, but they also look away, because that is what we do. We look away and stare at the ground, blushed and flustered.

That is why this was lesson two. Me, not looking away, it would catch Robb by surprise. It shows my interest and it also shows that I am not ashamed of it. As I count, I realize that Oberyn might actually know what he is doing. As soon as I count to five, I look away from Robb and directly at Oberyn.

"It worked," I smile at him. "He was looking our way as soon as I looked in his direction."

"Of course he was," Oberyn chuckles. "Half of the hall is staring at us now. He is still looking at us."

"How do you know?" I ask. He has his back turned to Robb, for the love of Gods!

"I can feel his eyes burning through my skull," he laughs. "Your look was good. It worked. He knows you have noticed him. Now, I need you to do it again." he tells me.

"What, again? Do I count to five again?" I ask in surprise.

"No. Not yet. I will tell you when," he says as he turns us around.

"How am I to look at him if I had my back turned to him?"

"Like this," Oberyn grins at me as he twirls me around. When he pulls me closer to himself, I could see Robb over his shoulders. I look at him again, just like Oberyn instructed me to. "Look away." he tells me and I listen to him. "Was he looking your way?"

"Yes," I confirm. "What am I doing with this, Oberyn?" I ask him.

"You are showing him your teeth," Oberyn smiles as he explains. "You are showing him that you find him interesting enough to look at, but not intimidating enough for you to look away instantly. Men like two things in a woman. Either it's a challenge or a worthy opponent. When you get to a certain age, when you have more experience, women all seem the same to you. Until one doesn't."

"I am going to take a wild guess and say that I am the woman that stands out?" I ask him, sounding as if I am not believing a single word he is saying.

"To me, yes," he chuckles. "We will see soon enough if it is the same for the wolf boy."

"I am afraid that wolf boy did not have the same amount of experience you did." I say, causing Oberyn to laugh louder than he should. I do not know Robb. Based on what I know about men his age, I think he has had more experience in this than I did, but both of us would fall short in comparison to Oberyn. With his years and his way of living, I doubt there is someone that could beat him when it comes to experience and love.

"We shall see, my love."

"Alright, this is my time to leave," I say as he lets me walk out of his embrace. "Will we work on lesson four tomorrow?" I ask.

"No, lesson three. This was all lesson two," he smiles. Oh Gods, I am too afraid to ask how many lessons he actually has in mind. "As you walk away, do not look at him. Never look at him directly as you leave the room. A knowing look when a woman leaves a room can only mean that she wants you to follow her out. Correct me if I am wrong, but you do not want that, do you?" he asks me.

"No, thank you," I sigh, making him chuckle. "So, I shouldn't look at him anymore?" I ask and when he nods his head, I sigh again. "Very well. I will see you tomorrow. Have a good night, Oberyn."

"Good night, my love. Dream of your wolf boy."

I can hear him laughing even as I make my way through the crowd. At least someone finds this amusing.

I listen to his advice and I do not look in Robb's direction as I leave the hall. I doubt this is going to look natural, if he is still even looking at me. I march away from the hall, looking directly in front of me. I do not look in a different direction, not only in his.

My mind was not in its right place. I was so unaware of my surroundings; I actually managed to run directly into someone as I take a left turn out of the hallway.

"Oh, I am so sorry!" I jump up, thankful that both of us managed to stay on our feet. It is only when I look up that I realized that I ran into Jon Snow.

I was not expecting to collide with anyone, let alone him. He seemed different, up close. His hair seems darker and his eyes are a peculiar shade of grey. I don't think I have ever seen grey eyes. Almost black, I would say. He did not smile at me. Not even a fraction of a smile. In fact, he looked panicked.

"Apologies, my lady." He utters.

How does a man as tall as him have trouble looking someone into their eyes? He was avoiding my eyes.

"No, no, I am the one to blame," I smile, hoping I would get a smile in return. I do not. "I was not looking where I was going; I was in a rush… I am sorry, my lord."

"I am sorry, my lady," he tells me. I wait and I wonder, but he does not look directly into my eyes. "I… I have no idea where I am going." He admits after a few moments and I laugh.

"I know Highgarden seems like a labyrinth to our guests, but I know it like the back of my hand. Where do you want to go, my Lord?" I ask, smiling.

"My chambers," he tells me." They are on the same floor as Robb's and Lord Stark's."

"Oh, it's easy," I smile. "Walk to the end of this hallway and then go upstairs, until the next floor. Then, you go left. And then, right. Now, I do not know which chambers are yours, but that is the hallway you are looking for."

"Thank you, my Lady," he tells me. Gods, the man is cordial, but he does not smile at all. "Left, stairs, left, right?" he asks and I nod, smiling at him.

"Yes," I confirm. "Why are you leaving the feast so soon? Were you not having fun, my lord?"

"It was very entertaining, my lady, but I am afraid I am tired," he tells me. "Why are you leaving so soon?" he asks. Gods be good, he can actually ask a proper question!

"Huh, I believe our reasons are similar, my lord."

"Well, I hope you have a good rest. Have a good night, my lady."

"Sleep well, my lord." I nod. He nods his head at me before he walks away, following the directions I gave him. I stay in place, watching him as he leaves.

I have never seen a man act like that. Even the most serious of men would crack a smile. I do not know what Jon Snow has against smiling, but I have a feeling that not even Margaery could make him return a smile her way.

He is peculiar and I am too curious for my own good. That cannot possibly be a good combination.

Seduction of Robb Stark. Not uncovering the mystery that is Jon Snow. That is what I should focus on.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello you guys!  
I'm back with a new chapter. Thank you for your follows and reviews! I hope you like the new chapter too, let me know what you think! And if you haven't checked out my other story, Running Up That Hill, do feel free to check it out!  
Let me know what you think! I'll update soon! :)**

* * *

" _Lesson three is all about a look."_

" _Again? But I was looking at him all along."_

" _No, this is a different look."_

" _Oberyn…"_

" _Do you want to listen to me or not? You do? Then be silent and listen to me._

* * *

"The construction should be done by the time the tournament starts. They have two days, it should be enough," Margaery tells me. She was much more interested in the broken benches than I was. This morning, our men found some of the benches that surrounded the pit vandalized. Well, no one knew if they were broken on purpose or not, but what could have caused it? The wind on a night that was not windy at all? It was odd, but I was not nearly as compelled by it as my sister was. "It will cost us, but it needs to be done."

"With all the gold we spent on organizing this dreadful thing, you worry about wooden benches?"

"I am not worried, I am just making conversation," Margaery rolls her eyes at me. "Besides, you and I are going to sit on those wooden benches. I would prefer to keep my bottom on it and not on the floor." She tells me. I laugh at my sister and I wish that a broken wooden bench was the biggest of my worries.

"Father would never allow for that to happen, even if he had to use golden pillars to support the bench," I say, pretending I am proud of that. Margaery laughs and shakes her head at my comment. "We will survive, sister. I have a feeling that a broken bench is just the beginning."

"Oh, don't be so negative," Margaery speaks up. "You are always so negative about everything."

"The way I see it darling, it is better to be negative and pleasantly surprised then to have expectations and face disappointment."

"Is that how you approach everything in life?"

"Almost," I admit. "I do not like when I cause trouble for myself. You know me, Margaery. Even when everything is going just fine, I will find a way to start a complication that will only grow with time. I am tired of that. It is not enjoyable, trust me. Now, I want to change it. I refuse to allow myself to complicate things that should remain simple."

"I do not know what you are talking about but I do not think you are talking about a bench anymore."

"In all honesty, I don't even know what I am talking about."

When she starts laughing, I have no option; I join in. We all reach that point when we do not know what to say or do and the only thing that is left is to laugh at ourselves.

We walk through the gardens, our arms linked, talking and laughing.

"Alright, don't look up," Margaery warns me suddenly as we turn left in the labyrinth. "Robb Stark, Theon Greyjoy and Jon Snow are looking at you." she tells me. Well, Gods damn it.

"How do you know it is not you their looking at?" I raise my eyebrow at her. Margaery is the one who catches wandering eyes, not me. And she knows it well. She might be trying to keep it to herself, or not to point it out, but she knows that she is the one men look at. I am the pretty sister. She is the prettier sister. Always has been, always will be.

"Because I looked up and they were looking at you," she tells me with a smile. "Well, Greyjoy is looking at both. But Robb Stark is definitely looking at you."

"And Jon Snow?"

"He is, but what does that matter?" Margaery laughs. "Oh darling, do not waste your time on him. Grandmother would burn the whole of Highgarden before letting you marry a bastard."

"I've asked if he was looking, not if it would be a great idea for me to marry him."

"I am just reminding you," Margaery sighs. She has my best interest at heart, and as much as I am thankful for that, it felt as if she was talking to a child. As much as she is a favorite, I am still the older sister. I do not need anyone to baby me. Especially if doing so involves disrespecting people because they are not true born. "Why waste time when another one is looking at you?"

"If you say so, Margaery," I agree, knowing that if I say what I truly mean, this discussion would be a never ending one. I cannot make people see everything the way I do. The sooner I realize that, the better it will be for me. And the more strength I will save. "Is he still looking?" I ask.

"I believe so, but I can't exactly stare, can I?" she laughs. Remembering what Oberyn told me, remembering lesson three, I take a deep breath and I do it. I turn my head around, not even bothering to be inconspicuous. Oh no, on the contrary. Lesson three is all about being obvious. I turn around and look directly at Robb. I look, directly into his eyes. "What are you doing?" Margaery whispers; I cannot see her, but I know that she is showing no emotions. Unlike me, she was trying to be inconspicuous. I look at Robb and I count to five again, before turning around again.

At first, it looked to be accidental. Now, it had to be on purpose. He had to know I was looking at him on purpose. He had to know I was interested. Only then will I be able to move on to lesson five.

"What did you do?" Margaery asks me again.

"I turned around and looked at him."

"I know, but why?" she asks. "He will know we were talking about him."

"And that is exactly why I did it." I tell her. I smile as I see a look of understanding on her face. Her smile grows as she realizes that I have done it all on purpose. She looks surprisingly proud.

"Oh, Clara, what are you planning now?" she asks, laughing when I shrug my shoulders, feign innocence.

"That is for me to know and for you to find out, my dear sister."

* * *

" _Now, lesson four?"_

" _What, I will not have to wait more?"_

" _You would be so irritating if you were not as lovely as you are. Lesson four. It connects to lesson five."_

" _I haven't even tried lesson three!"_

" _Listen to me woman! Damn it! Lesson three is nothing more than a comment. A comment that can carry a double meaning. Now, I cannot tell you what to say. I cannot know when you will have a chance to speak to him, or where you will be then, but you need to talk to him, and what you say needs to be a surprise. You need to impress him. And you need to do that on your own, without my help._

" _I thing that might be an issue, but before I start to panic… what is lesson five?"_

" _Lesson five is a touch. He needs to touch you. I do not know where or how or for how long, but his skin needs to touch yours. And it needs to happen tonight. I would recommend a dance. That is possibly the only way where you two could touch without raising any eyebrows of these prude people."_

" _He has never asked me to dance."_

" _Well, it might be time to change that."_

" _That is not my call."_

" _What, a girl cannot ask a man for a dance? Do you see it? This is why you would be better off at Dorne! You are trying to seduce a man who does not have the courage to ask you for a dance! Do you know want? I want to speak to that wolf boy…"_

" _Oberyn!"_

" _Is he blind or is he just stupid?"_

" _I thought you said it will take time?"_

" _It will. More than I thought, it would seem. Get that wolf boy to dance with you. I do not know how, but do it. Close your eyes and pretend you are in Dorne, where dancing would be prude for our tastes."_

* * *

I decided to borrow one of Margaery's dresses. After all, they showed more skin, and the first thing Oberyn told me was to show skin. With measure, but to show it. If he is going to touch me, it is better if he touches my skin, is it not? So, I ask Margaery to give me a dress with an open back. And so she did.

The only fear I head was that my efforts are noticeable.

Yes, my hair was done every day and yes, my dresses were nice, elegant and expensive, but I never made such an effort with my appearance, not since our guests have arrived to Highgarden. I did it with a purpose but I am worried that people will notice. Perhaps not the ones that are still strangers, but the one who know me well and who should notice that this is not how I usually dress.

Noticeable or not, I was nervous and agitated. I spent half the night avoiding Oberyn and the other half not looking in Robb's direction. I knew that Oberyn would not approach me if I was speaking with a Lannister, so it all gave me a perfect excuse to have a conversation with Tyrion and to keep him company as he was having one cup of wine too many.

"Lady Clara, if you do not remove that frown, I am afraid it will stay there for good."

"I am afraid it already is," I laugh. He smiles at me. It was not a predatory smile, like the one Oberyn would wear even if we were discussing serious topics. No, this was a kind smile. Like a grown man smiling to a child. Tyrion is not old enough to look at me as a child, but I am younger. And a man who has stories like Tyrion has must have plenty of experience behind him. "Although I probably should pay attention to that. Who wants a wife with frowns and wrinkles?"

"I honestly thought your family would use Lady Margaery's marriage as an alliance weapon."

"Well, they will. I am, as they would say, a wild card," I say, earning a chuckle from him. "They do not know where Margaery will go, but I am a lost cause." I tell him. I do not say that we all have a pretty good idea as to where Margaery will end up. Fortunately for Margaery, in her case, she and Grandmother agree on where her place is. If all goes by plan, she will be a Queen. But I cannot just say that to Tyrion Lannister, uncle of the Prince we are speaking of.

"I do not think you are a lost cause, Lady Clara," Tyrion tells me and this time, I am the one who chuckles. He only knows the version of me I choose to present to him. Granted, I am presenting the version that is very close to who I really am, but there still are many things he does not know, nor will he ever. Despite what he believes, I am a lost cause and not just when it comes to my possible marriage. "Why are you talking to me, Lady Clara? Why are you here?" he asks me.

"Because I enjoy speaking to you," I tell him honestly. "Much more than with most of the people here."

"No, I understand why you are here and thank you for that," he smiles. "What I do not understand is why you are not speaking to the one you truly want to speak?" he asks me, giving me a knowing look.

"Who are you speaking of, Lord Tyrion?"

"We have been sitting her for four goblets, at least," he laughs. "You have laughed, you have talked and you have looked all around the room. Expect at one table. Except at one table and one man."

"Lord Tyrion, if I did not look at someone, I can assure you it is nothing more than an accident," I lie. I should not have taken him for granted. I forgot just how smart and perceptive he can be. Even drunk, he knows where to look if he wants to see something that most do not. "I hide nothing, my Lord."

"I have met a lot of women, Lady Clara," he tells me. "Many of them did not love me, nor enjoyed my company, although they acted very well. I know a lot about the behavior of women, Lady Clara. And if a woman does not look at a man, it is because that is the only person she really wants to look at."

"Or maybe she has a pain in her neck and does not want to twist her head to the right?" I suggest.

"Right, is it?" Tyrion laughs. It was too late to save myself. I have already shown him my cards. "Go and speak to him. He has been looking your way ever since you sat down."

"How do you know who I am not looking at?" I ask him. "The table is mighty crowded."

"It's a lucky guess," Tyrion laughs. "Go on, Lady Clara. I will be here tomorrow, drinking and talking, if you want to avoid looking at the boy once again." he laughs when I roll my eyes. Knowing that staying here would earn me a whole night of jests on my expense and with Oberyn's stupid lessons on mind, I smile and not at Tyrion, before making my way towards the table where all, or almost all, of the Starks were seated. I go there with a purpose, but instead of looking at Robb, I look at his father instead.

"Lord Eddard," I smile at him as I approach the table. He smiles at me and I make a point of avoiding Robb's look. Which was not easy, since he was seated next to his father. "How are you enjoying your stay so far?" I smile as I walk over the bench on the other side of the table and sit down.

"Very well, Lady Clara," the man smiles at me. He has one of those kind faces, one of those fatherly looks. I imagine he gives those looks to anyone that is the age of his children or younger. "You and your House have exceeded all of our expectations when it comes to your hospitality."

"Well, we do have a reputation to live up to," I smile, knowing that the smile would make the irony of my words seem far less noticeable. "I am glad you are enjoying your stay. We are happy to host you."

"We would be happy to host you up at Winterfell too."

"Be careful what you wish for, Lord Eddard. I might just take you up on that offer."

"Please," he laughs. "You would be more than welcome. Although, I am afraid it would take you a little while to get used to the cold." He adds.

"Well, that lives me with very little usable clothing," I joke. "Do not tell that to my sister." I add, knowing that there was a fine line between insulting and making a joke. I knew that Margaery would laugh if she had heard me, but I was not trying to leave a good impression on Margaery. Thankfully, Lord Eddard laughs at my comment. I almost pat myself on the back.

"I am sure your lady sister would adapt fast as well," Lord Eddard tells me with a smile. "Although, Lady Clara, you do seem like a durable woman, if I may say."

"Thank you," I smile. "I think this is the first time someone used the word durable to describe me. I like it. Much better than "nice"," I make him laugh again. "Where is the little Lord Brandon, my Lord? I have not seen him tonight."

"Ah, he's probably asleep by now," Lord Eddard laughs. "I am afraid he is too young for feasts and dances until the early hours. Even if I know how much he would like to join in on all the fun."

"It's a shame," I sigh. "I was hoping to dance with him tonight. Especially since your eldest son does not seem to show much interest in dancing. I wonder what a girl has to do for him to ask her for a dance." I say and as I finish my sentence, I look directly at Robb, with the tiniest of smiles.

Oberyn will be proud.

I watch as Robb struggles to hide his surprise to my words.

"Well…" Lord Eddard starts and I look back at him. It was obvious he was struggling to hide a smile. "I believe my son can speak for himself on this one." He says and I look back at Robb again.

"Would you like to dance, my Lady?" he asks me.

"Yes, how did you know?" I smile at him. This time, I hear laughter. Lord Eddard, Theon Greyjoy and Jon Snow all laughed at my comment. I felt bad when I saw Robb's cheeks blushing, but I remind myself of what Oberyn had told me earlier; I need to impress him. And I think I managed to do that just now.

I walk down the table and we meet at the edge of it, where he takes me by the hand and walks me over to the crowd of other dancing couples. I smile at him as he puts his hand on my back; he was not expecting naked skin, I can see it on his face. It might have been a surprise to him, but he does not move his hand as we begin to dance. Lesson five would be a touch and that was now done with.

"In my defense Lord Robb, I have danced with every young Lord in this hall more than once," I say. "I waited for three days and I was starting to grow inpatient."

"In my defense, Lady Clara," Robb starts. "The thought crossed my mind, but you always seemed to be preoccupied. Dancing or speaking to other men."

Oh! I think Oberyn's plan might be working. I might have taken him by surprise and while it did seem as if I had the upper hand and more confidence, he was not baking down. The only reason why I had the upper hand is because I managed to catch him by surprise. We did not get a proper chance to speak, not on our own. It is a nice surprise, to see that he is not acting like a little boy Oberyn thought he was.

"Well, what kind of hostess would I be if I did not make time for our guests?" I ask, smiling when he chuckled at my words. "I will gladly make time for you, so long as you ask."

"It seems to me that you have already asked it for me."

"Are you bothered by it?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Not in the least."

Oh, it is definitely working. And Robb Stark is no man child. He knows how to flirt. It might be too soon to tell, but he knows what he is doing, even if he has nothing on Oberyn.

"Well, that is good to hear."

"Perhaps now, Theon will finally give it a rest.

"Oh, what has he been doing?" I ask, not sure if I want to know the answer to this.

"Well… let's just say, if I listened to his advice, you would not want to dance with me ever again."

"Oh, really?" I ask through laughter. "Now I am curious. What was his advice? What is bad enough to make me not want to dance with you? It would have to be good. You are quite the dancer, Lord Robb."

"Believe me, Lady Clara, you do not want to know," he laughs. "Take my word on this one."

"Or perhaps I should just ask Theon Greyjoy myself?" I suggest and as soon as I make a move to step away from him, he pulls me back. We were standing closer to each other than we did before, and as we dance, neither one of us makes an effort to create a greater distance between us. "Theon Greyjoy must have a very sick mind, since I am really enjoying dancing with you."

"And I with you," he smiles down at me. "Although I am afraid Theon does have a sick mind."

"Why are we talking about Theon Greyjoy?" I ask, making him laugh. "Out of all the topics in the world, all the questions we might want to ask, why him? Go on, ask me something." I urge him.

"Would you dance with me again?" he asks.

"Tonight or on some other occasion?" I smile.

"Tonight."

"Until my feet bleed, if need be." I laugh.

"And what about some other occasions?" he asks me, raising his eyebrow.

"Gladly."

"Thank you for that honor, Lady Clara." He smiles.

"Oh, if you say so," I smile and I do something I was not planning on doing. I come closer to him, my lips next to his ear. "Tomorrow night, when I leave the feast, I want you to follow me. Follow me to the labyrinth. Bring Theon and Jon with you, if you wish. Be careful that no one discovers you." I whisper.

"Where are we going?" he asks into my ear.

"You will see tomorrow night." I say as I pull back. "And it is a secret, so you'd better be careful."

"If you say so." He laughs.

Oh, how Oberyn will be proud of me when I report all of this to him. Especially how Robb smiled at me. It was not just a simple smile; it was a smile full of wonder, amusement and curiosity.

* * *

"So the student because the master," Oberyn laughs as I pour him some more wine. "I must have been mad when I suggested it."

"Why?" I ask him, confused.

"I taught a woman how to seduce a man, all the while I wanted her to seduce me," he smiles at me. This time, he was not wearing a smirk. This was not one of his flirting techniques that he was using on me; he was being honest. I think. "What makes it even sadder is that no seduction would be necessary."

"Oberyn, I thought we have agreed on this."

"Yes, yes we did," he confirms. "I said I will not do it, you do not want me to do it and I have agreed to give up on it, but all the while, I want it," he shakes his head. "It is driving me insane."

"Oberyn, both of us know you would be content for one night," I sigh. As uncomfortable as it felt, I did not look away from him; I stare at him, directly into his eyes. "You are acting like a child that really wants to eat something sweet. You will throw a tantrum, scream and shout until you get it. And then, when you get it, you will realize that you did not really want it as much as you thought you did. I would make you happy for one night, and then you would grow bored with me, sooner than you think. Do not ruin my life by making me your toy."

"Your life would not be ruined," he shakes his head. "You would love it all."

"You cannot say that," I shake my head. "Just as I cannot claim that to be untrue. We do not know, but I do not want to bother and find out. It is not what I want. I do not want to share my husband with a woman he already loves. I could give you more reasons, but I think that one should be enough. The only reason you ever wanted me is because you cannot have me. If you were to have me, it would all die down. Do not confuse your desire and impulse with the possibility of being a good husband. It is not the same, Oberyn. I almost wish it was, but it is not."

"You do not…" Oberyn starts. It is not every day that I see a man like Oberyn being at a loss for words. "Even if what you say does happen, you know that I would never treat you badly. You are my friend."

"I know that," I smile at him as I lean over the table and take him by the hand. "I know I would be at peace and that I would never miss anything. I know you would always be kind to me, but that doesn't mean I would always be happy, does it?" I ask him, hoping that my question will remain unanswered. It does. "Leave it be, Oberyn. I am no more right for you than you are right for me."

"So, the wolf boy it is?" he asks me after a long moment of silence.

"The wolf boy it is," I confirm. "If he is interested, that is."

"Damn it, woman!" Oberyn snaps, causing me to jump up in surprise. "As soon as I think I have made some progress with you, you push it all away. It is not his choice. It is your choice alone."

"Oberyn, I don't…"

"It is your choice alone," he repeats, his voice sounding like a low growl. I nod my head, knowing that it is better to simply agree than to see just how angry I could actually make him. "I told you before, by the time the tournament is over, he will be eating from your hand. The tournament did not even start."

"I know," I agree, although I would not say that I have Robb Stark eating out of my hand just now. "We will see what happens tomorrow night. As good as it might be, I cannot seem to shake off the feeling of it being a possible disaster."

"What is happening tomorrow night?" Oberyn asks me, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh, Oberyn, did you ever think I would purposely make you miss out all the fun?" I ask, smiling as I watch that grin of his take its place. "Meet me tomorrow night at the labyrinth. If need be, hide behind the bush to the left."

"You want me to hide in the bushes?" he asks me in disbelief.

"Are you saying that I am the first Lady that you did that for?" I ask.

"Alright, bush to the left," he sighs as I start laughing. "When? And where are we going?"

"I will tell you when to leave at the feast," I tell him. "With all of us leaving tomorrow night, we have to be careful as to who leaves when."

"All of us?"

"You will see tomorrow night."

"And where are we heading?"

"You will see tomorrow night," I repeat. "Stop asking Oberyn, I will not give it away."

"You do know I could find a way to get it out of you." he warns me. Ah, the smirk is back.

"Yes. And as sure as I am that your attempt would be successful, I know you will not do it." I say. He frowns and stares at me and to my surprise, he is the one that looks away first.

"Damn you, woman."

* * *

It was like a battle plan. We covered everything in fine detail, we discussed it all two days prior and we were ready for action. It truly was like a battle plan and for the first time, it felt like a proper battle.

Willas and Loras were the first ones to leave. I do not know which excuse did they used, if they used any. I just saw them walking out, the first ones out of all of us. Margaery followed, smiling and laughing as she claimed that she needs to retire, given that she has had one goblet too many.

When Maragery left, I looked for Oberyn and as soon as I our eyes met, I nodded my head once. I told him I would give him a signal and he understood. I watched as he exchanged his goodbyes before leaving the hall.

I had no trouble with getting Robb to look my way. Once he did so, I nodded my head, the same I did with Oberyn. I stood up and walked over to my parents.

"Father, Mother," I catch their attention. "I will take my leave. I am afraid I am feeling unwell."

"What is the matter, darling?" Mother asks me.

"My head hurts. Probably from all the wine," I tell her, knowing that I was risking it all while using the same excuse Margaery did. "It is nothing that a good sleep cannot fix." I reassure her, since the last thing I wanted was for her or Father to send someone to check up on me.

"Do you need to see a maester?" Father asks and I shake my head at once.

"No, no," I tell them with a smile. "Worry not. I will feel better in the morning. For now, I will just avoid the crowd and the drinks. I bid you both a good night." I say with a small smile and before they could say anything else or send someone away with me, I walk towards the large door. Right before I walk through it, I give Robb Stark one last look and I hope that he understands what it means.

I go through the hallways and I stop in one that was empty; it was on the side, no one would go through it. However, I knew Robb would have to walk right past it. Unlike me, he does not know the secret hallways and passages that could lead us to the garden labyrinth. He will take the long way round.

I was right; I heard his steps and as soon as I saw him, I jump out and grab him by the hand. As surprised as he was, I was fortunate he did not hit me in defense. No, he was too surprised to react as I pull him away onto the side and away from prying eyes. I put a finger on my lips to signalize him to stay silent.

"Where are Jon and Theon?" I whisper. I was hoping he would bring them. In fact, I was counting on it. If someone was to see me walking through the castle with the three of them, I doubt anyone would think twice of it. However, if they see me hiding in poorly lit hallways with Robb…

"They will follow me," he whispers back. "I told them to wait a little before going to the labyrinth."

"Good thinking," I smile at him, knowing that the three of them, leaving at the very same time would get more attention than them leaving individually. "Well, if they will meet us there, we'd better get going. We are going the long way round." I add, smiling at him before I grab him by the hand and lead the way.

I take us down the hidden paths, down the ones no one ever bothers with. Everyone is in the hall, both the guests and servants alike. We should be safe and if someone was to catch us, I could have us safely hidden away from prying eyes within seconds. That is why I pay attention; those seconds it would take me to hide us could be pivotal, since someone might see me running off in the mid of night, away from the feast and holding onto Robb Stark's hand. I rush and he follows me.

"When you said the long way round, you really meant long way round." Robb laughs when we walk outside into the back garden. I turn around and smile at him as we walk into the garden.

"I did not think you would complain about it."

"I am not."

"Shh!" I warn him, putting a finger to my lips again. "Anyone could be here." I warn him as we keep on with our walk, still going hand in hand.

I do not think I've ever held hands with a man for so long. Well, a man that was not my brother, or perhaps Father. It did feel strange; of course it did, given that I was thinking about it and well aware of it. But it did not feel uncomfortable. If he was uncomfortable with it, he did not show it and I was glad for that. That would make it even stranger. With us touching and with a smile here and there, it was strange enough for my liking. Pleasant, but strange.

"Will you tell me know where we are going?" he asks me, keeping his voice low.

"You will see," I smile. "I promise you, you will not be disappointed." I laugh when he raises his eyebrow at me. I say nothing, still smiling as I take us through the garden. I am starting to believe that I actually might be good at this whole seduction, flirting thing. Definitely better than I thought. With Oberyn as my mentor and Margaery as my advisor, I was not allowed to be bad at it.

"We are here," I say as we walk down to the labyrinth. As soon as I spoke up, Oberyn stepped out of the bushes. If Robb was surprised by his presence, he hid it well. "We are waiting for Jon and Theon. Then, we will leave." I inform Oberyn.

"My love, we are we going?" Oberyn asks me.

Gods be damned. All those lessons and now he calls me "love" in front of the man I'm trying to win over? As if that is not bad enough, he might actually be doing it on purpose.

"The two of you will put me into an early grave," I sigh. "Wait and you will see." I say. Thankfully, Jon and Theon make their way down the labyrinth, looking at us in surprise. "Follow me and stay close to the bushes. If we do that, no one will see us from the castle." I tell them and without saying another word, I lead the way through the labyrinth.

If they did not have me as a leader, chances are, they would have been stuck here until the daylight. We do not have a labyrinth here only for the fun of it; when it was arranged, we had battles and sieges in mind. The only way to Highgarden was either with the main road, which could be easily closed, or through the labyrinth. A labyrinth which would slow down even the strongest of armies.

However, it does not slow down people who grew up playing in this labyrinth. I would spend hours and days with my siblings, running through it. We would hide from one another, learn all the shortcuts, jump out of the buses to scare others. I knew the labyrinth like the back of my hand, and so did my siblings. Even by night. Which was very useful on nights like this.

We exit the labyrinth, one after the other, to be met with Willas, Loras and Margaery, looking surprised.

"Clara?" Loras asks me in surprise. "You must be joking!"

"Why, Loras?" I challenge him, knowing exactly what bothered him. And it bothered me that it bothered him. Out of the four of us, Loras was the judgmental one. I love him, I love him dearly, but he was using Renly's brain and not his own. Which would imply a sever dislike of anyone that is not Baratheon or Tyrell.

"All of them? Are you mad?" he asks me.

"No, I am not mad, brother. They will not be the first guests that join us, will they?" I ask, knowing that my question will remind him of the time when Renly snuck out of the castle; it was the four of us and him. Now that I do the same, he dares to complain.

"Easy," Willas warns us both. "It is what it is," he sighs. Unlike Loras, he could actually accept us having company tonight. "There are more of us. We need to be careful. And we need more horses." He adds.

"I will bring them. Loras, come with me." Margaery speaks up. It had to be the two of them. It had to be one of us, since we were the only ones that knew the way. Willas should not be using his bad leg any more than he must, and I am the one who is the unofficial hostess to four men. I also had a slight suspicion Loras will get an earful from Margaery.

"Pardon my brother," Willas speaks up, looking at Robb, Oberyn, Jon and Theon. "We usually travel more lightly. And in secret." He adds.

"Where are we going?" Oberyn asks again. "Your dear sister likes to play games and avoid questions. I remember you as being more straightforward."

"I am," Willas laughs as I roll my eyes. "We are leaving Highgarden for the night. We are going to show you one of the best places The Reach has to offer. You will not regret joining us, I promise you. That is, if no one discovers us."

"No one will discover us," I speak up, rolling my eyes again. "Besides, if they do discover us, they won't be in trouble. We will."

"It is not them I am worried about." Willas laughs.

"Look, here they are," I say, noticing Margaery and Loras, both bringing two horses with them. I used them as a perfect excuse to end this conversation. "Right now, let's get going," I smile at the four men I dragged along with me. "Take a horse and follow us. Do not yell, do not rush the horses. We are not charging on an army, we are going a bit down the road. Be quiet and whatever you say, do not mention your Houses. Where we are going, you're going to wish to remain unknown."

Oberyn frowns at me before smirking, while Robb exchanges looks with both Jon and Theon.

Am I truly trouble or is that nothing but a mistaken impression?


	7. Chapter 7

**Guys, I just returned from the best concert of my entire life. The Killers were amazing and I felt so freakin' inspired, I had to finish this chapter. It was easy, I'm only tipsy :)**

 **I'll try to update at least once more before I leave for my holiday but I'm making no promises.  
I hope you like this one. Let me know what you think! :)  
Oh, and those of you who are curious, Clara will have three matches in this one. If I give you more details, I'll ruin it for you. Three matches and only one is her true love, so… wait and see.  
If you like it, you know what to do. Follow, favorite and review. Let me know what you think!**

* * *

If you follow the road from Highgarden to the south and move a little bit away from the main road, you can easily find a small house. The closer you come to the house, the louder the noise is.

We have ended up in this place many years ago. How, I cannot quite say. Loras, Willas, Margaery and I were out and what we were doing this far in the dead of night, I still cannot explain. But, we were here and we heard the noise. Being stupid as we were, we decided to enter the house.

House, or a small tavern with no sign in front of it. We have been coming here ever since.

They know very well who we are, both the owners and the guests. Most of them, at least. And they never call us by our names. When we open the door, heads turn and eyes linger on us, but in a moment, all of them return to whatever they were doing before we walked in. For the remainder of the night, they all act as if we are one of them. Which we ultimately are.

Tonight, when we opened the doors, the eyes were lingered on us for a while longer, given that four men followed us in, which has never happened before. Four very confused and slightly intimidating men walked in behind us, looking as dumbfounded by this situation as the other customers were.

"You have company," Mary, the wife of the owner tells me as she eyes up our guests. I can only imagine what they look like to someone who is not familiar with them; two Northerners, tall and wide in the shoulders. One Iron Islander, as tall as them, and equally intimidating, even if he is leaner. And, of course, Oberyn. I can only imagine what he looked like to them, in his bright clothing, his smirk and wandering eyes. We have company and some company it is.

"Yes, Mary," I tell her as I walk closer towards her. "Please, do not comment on it. My siblings have judged me enough as it is."

"Will it be mead or wine?" she smiles at me. And that is why I adore Mary with all my heart. She wanted to ask questions, always, yet she never did ask them. Not now, not ever. Most would wonder why in the name of Gods four heirs of their liege lord are sneaking out of the castle in the dead of night to have a drink or two with regular folk, but not Mary. She never asked, not once, in all these years.

"A bit of both, dear Mary," Wills speaks up as he approaches us. "Is there a free table?"

"Of course, follow me," she tells my brother, smiling up at him. I signal Oberyn, Greyjoy and the Stark brothers with my head, making them follow us as we follow Mary, pretending like no one was even looking at us.

"Lady Clara!" a voice shouts and my blood freezes at once. Never was I called by my name and title in this place. I turn around and when I look at the table we were passing, I see who called after me. It was Tyrion Lannister.

Of course. Leave it to Tyrion Lannister to find the best tavern in and around Highgarden.

"Oh. Lady Clara and company. Quite the company." He comments as he looks behind me, where all of them have stopped in their tracks. That was a mistake. They should have simply walked away.

"Lord Tyrion," I smile at him. "I should not be surprised to find you here and yet I am. Do you wish to join us?" I ask, even though I knew that I might just be the only one in our group that actually likes him. Willas might find him amusing and perhaps intelligent, but I doubt he likes the man.

"Perhaps later, Lady Clara," Tyrion smiles. He is smart; he probably knows the same things I do as well. "You enjoy the night." He tells me.

We continue down to an empty table which Mary prepared to us. By the time I take a seat, Margaery and Loras were already speaking to Allon and Cal, two of the regulars. Willas was laughing at something Oberyn said, Greyjoy was already looking at the women around and I was left with a confused Robb and a frowning Jon. I cannot blame my siblings for this. After all, I was the one that invited them here.

"Lady Clara, what is this place?" Robb asks me, leaning over the table.

"Please, let's give up the pleasantries. Call me by my name and I shall do the same, Robb," I say, earning a smile from him. "This is, as you have probably noticed already, a small tavern outside of Highgarden. We have discovered this place when we were much too young to be spending time at a tavern. And we have been coming here ever since." I tell him.

"And does your family know about this, my Lady?" Jon speaks up. I turn to him and smile.

"If they knew about this, we would not bother with sneaking out in the middle of the night, would we Jon?" I ask and smile even wider when he goes red in the face. "You too may call me by my name. After all, we are all equal here, are we not?" I ask. The look on Jon's face told me that he might not agree with that. For a moment there, I forgot I was speaking to a man who was raised as a bastard. A bastard of a noble house, but a bastard nonetheless. I should truly ask Margaery to sew my mouth shut.

"What do you do here?" Robb asks me and I direct my attention to him.

"We talk, we laugh, we drink," I smile. "Sometimes we dance, before drinking some more. It is simple, really. For a few hours in a lonely night, we get to pretend like we are the same as everyone else. And for a few hours in a lonely night, they accept us as one of their own. No titles hold here, Lord Robb." I smirk at him, shaking my head. "Here, you are nothing more than a boy who has no idea why he let a girl drag him out of the castle and all the way to a lonely tavern."

"Boy?" he asks raising his eyebrow.

"Boy." I confirm, not backing away from a challenge. I felt guilty for being such a flirt, especially in front of his brother, but I had no choice. After all, the iron has been cooling down long enough; if I do not hurry with the bending, it might be too late. "I hope you can handle your drink, boy."

"Probably better than you, girl." He laughs. Once again, he goes from a confused boy to a charming man. I cannot follow him, not as well as I'd like to. It is in times like these when I pretend to be more like my sister and less like the person I actually am.

"Is that a challenge, boy?" I raise my eyebrow.

"Might be, girl."

"Please stop." Greyjoy speaks up, frowning in disgust. "You are not following my advice." He tells his friend.

"Well, I suppose I should thank the Gods for that," I laugh, making both Robb and Jon laugh and Theon frown at me. "Anya there?" I ask, pointing at one of the girls that were sitting few tables down from us. "Anya is a lovely girl. She will give a chance to anyone, even people who give poor advice."

"Sister, you are making Anya sound like a whore." Willas joins in.

"I said no such thing," I protest. "I simply stated she would everyone a chance, not that she will let him bed her in front of the whole tavern."

"Shame." Theon sighs, making the men around us laugh and making me frown.

"You truly are a simple bunch," I sigh. "Well Greyjoy, let's see if you can put money where your mouth is. Shall we dance?" I ask, fully aware that this was a horrible idea.

"You do not wish to endure such torture." Robb warns me.

"Now Robb, I should be the judge of that." I laugh.

"Yeah Robb, listen to her." Theon tells him as he jumps up and theatrically offers me his hand.

This was a horrible idea in more ways than once. To begin with, I truly did not wish to dance. Not with anyone, not with Theon. While he did intrigue me at once, with his confidence and presence, that died down and I directed my attention to his friend. No one else was dancing, so we were bound to draw eyes to us. And last, but not least, I will give Theon a chance to touch me.

To my surprise, he was quite the dancer. Robb was probably better, but Theon was not bad at all.

"So, you have been giving Robb advice?" I ask and he nods, smiling down at me. "How self-centered would it be of me to ask if the advice was about me?" I ask.

"Very self-centered, but also a logical guess," Theon tells me and I can't hold back my laughter.

"Why would he think he needs advice?"

"Well, you make him nervous," Theon shrugs as he starts spinning us in a different direction. "He was never good with women, in all honesty. But you make him nervous, more than others."

"I would say that is understandable. I did not… beat around the bush, as they say."

"No, you did not," Theon laughs. "Forgive his inexperience, my Lady. He does like you, rest assured. He just does not know how to act when he is around you."

"Well, I have no problem with the way he has been acting around me. Besides, I am afraid I do appreciate a man without an extensive experience."

"We were not meant to be, my lady." Theon grins at me and I laugh. He really made me laugh this time. I liked him more now; he was fully aware that the two of us would absolutely not make a good match, not for our houses, not between the two of us. Yet he still has the confidence to be a flirt. I like him.

"And here I thought you were the man of my dreams, Theon Greyjoy," I laugh along with him. Suddenly, the music changes; the men that were playing the instruments now started playing a faster melody. Much faster, at that. In a matter of seconds, half of the tavern was up on their feet, dancing around us.

"Alright, I can't dance to this."

"Of course you can." I laugh.

"I really can't," Theon laughs. "But I know someone who can. Robb!" He yells and before I have a chance to protest, Robb was already walking over to us. "I have tortured my Lady enough; your turn to make it all better." Theon announces as he claps Robb on the back before elegantly strutting away from us.

"I apologize for him, he…" Robb starts, wide-eyed.

"Robb," I stop him, laughing. "I am not insulted. Stop apologizing for everything. I am not older than you and I do not have a higher title. Stop walking around on eggshells and dance with me." I smile even wider when he returns my smile. Slowly but surely, I am going to make him melt. If I keep it up the way I am doing it now, Oberyn will end up being right, again. He will eat out of my hand, if I keep it up. I do not know what is it about me that he likes, but he sure does like something. I may not be a champion at reading men, not like Oberyn or Margaery are, but I see all that I need to see when he smiles at me.

"This is not the dancing I am used to." He laughs after failing to catch up with my moves.

"That is because not everyone here dances in proper lord and ladylike fashion." I tell him. "If I do something now, do you promise to keep it a secret?" I ask him.

"Alright." He agrees, after thinking about it for a moment.

"Can I trust Theon and Jon to keep their mouths shut as well?" I ask. "See, Oberyn and my siblings will keep quiet. Tyrion Lannister will probably be too drunk to remember. I know I can trust you, but I need you to confirm that Theon and Jon will not speak about this, not to my family at least." I tell him.

"Clara, you are scaring me now." He laughs nervously.

"It is nothing bad, just not something I want everyone to speak about," I explain. "Can I trust them?"

"Aye, you can." He confirms. I give him one last smile before walking away from him.

"Anya!" I call for the girl I mentioned to Theon earlier. She was dancing with a man, but when she saw it was me who called, she smiled, excused herself and walked over to me. "Let's dance." I grin.

"Table?" she asks.

"Table." I confirm.

She takes me by the hand as the two of us climb on top of a bench. We use the bench as a staircase to reach the table. I grin as my siblings, Oberyn and Jon start moving the drinks away from the two of us, with Loras, Willas and Margaery smiling as they shake their heads, Oberyn looking interested and Jon being as confused as he always was. When I look back at Robb, I see him standing in the place where I left him, wide-eyed. I do not see Theon; he probably found a girl to charm.

Anya and I lift up our skirts just enough to give our legs more freedom and we started dancing. I laugh as the two of us try to keep our moves coordinated and fail miserably. It does not take long for Margaery to join us, climbing onto the table with the help of our brothers. The three of us try so hard to dance in sync with one another, but without any success, which only makes everyone, including us, laugh harder. Thankful for the strong and wide table below us, I laugh as the three of us spin around in a circle, acting too careless for our own good; I had a pretty good idea that the men from our little group are sitting in shock, waiting to catch us if one of us should fall.

Margaery was the last to join in and the first to give up. When Anya told me, breathless, that she cannot dance any longer, I nod my head, not wanting to be the last one standing. I climb down with the help of Oberyn and Robb, who was laughing.

"And that's how you dance in a tavern, Stark." I say, before I allow myself to fall onto the bench, trying to catch my breath. I should have worn my hair up today; it must be stuck to my back by now.

* * *

We might have slowed down with our pace, but we did not stop dancing. And we certainly did not stop drinking. I am unsure of how much wine and mead I have had, but I am still well aware of my movements and words, so I am not worried.

"I think I am drunk." I laugh as I put my arms around Robb's neck.

"I think you are drunk as well," he agrees. "You are fun either way, Clara."

"Why thank you Robb," I smile. "I would have liked it more if you were to loosen up a little bit, but I am happy." I chuckle. Perhaps I am not as aware of my words as I thought I was.

He laughs and as he turns me around, I catch the look my sister gave me; she was not that far from us, dancing with Oberyn. Her looked told me what I already knew. While I have a talent of keeping Oberyn at bay, my sister does not. And Oberyn would flirt with a stick.

"Margaery needs rescue," I say to Robb. "Go dance with her."

"I rather enjoy dancing with you, Clara." He admits. I am positive that I blushed.

"And I with you, but if we do not stop him, Oberyn will try to take her here and now." I laugh.

"Would he truly?" Robb asks me with a raised eyebrow.

"Perhaps not, but I would rather not test him," I chuckle. "I know how to handle him, my sister doesn't. Rescue her and I promise you another dance before we leave."

"Deal." He agrees as he moves us in the direction of Oberyn and Margaery. In a matter of seconds and a few chuckles, I am dancing with Oberyn and from the corner of my eye, I see Margaery letting out a sigh of relief.

"So we meet again, Clara Tyrell," Oberyn purrs.

"Oberyn," I shake my head, not having the strength to warn him, for the hundredth time. "We meet again." I give up, knowing he would make a whole game out of me warning him not to flirt with me.

"You are doing a good job with the wolf boy," he compliments me with that smirk of his. "Much better than I imagined. I had faith in you, but even without my guidance, you have him wrapped around your little finger." He says. I laugh, shaking my head at him.

"I do not think so, Oberyn. He likes me well enough, but we are a long way away from him being wrapped around my finger. But I am proud of myself. And you are one hell of a teacher." I add.

"That I am," he agrees. "But as your teacher, I must warn you. True enough, you are doing a good job with the wolf boy. But you will never seduce him, not if you keep sneaking a look at the wolf boy's brother. Wolf boy might be too blind to notice, but he will see it soon enough." he warns me.

"Oberyn, if I look at Jon, I look at Jon," I roll my eyes. "I am not undressing him with my eyes. I just look. The same way I look at any other man."

"No, you don't," he shakes his head at me. "I watch you watch him. I know it, better than you do. You might be charging at the wolf boy, full speed with all your forces, but you want to know what the bastard has hidden underneath, don't you?" he asks.

What Oberyn picked up on… he is right, to some extent. I do find Jon attractive and I consider him a mystery; much more mysterious than his brother. That may be true, but that does not mean I have a desire to rip Jon's clothing and see what "the bastard has hidden underneath".

"You need to learn when not to overstep your boundaries, Oberyn," I say, not bothering to hide my distaste with his comment. "And it would not hurt you to learn what personal space is." I say as I let him go and walk over to our table. Loras and Jon were sitting there so I had company.

"Too much to drink?" Loras asks me through laughter.

"Depends on the way you look at it, Loras. You say too much, I say not enough." I sigh as I take a big chug of wine. It was as if I left my lady persona at the door. Actually, that is exactly what I did. I do it every time we come down here. After all, that is the very reason we come here. Here, we are not heirs, Lords or Ladies. Here, we are just… young people that enjoy dancing and drinking.

"Lady Clara, you will soon be drunker than I am!" I hear Tyrion Lannister laugh.

"I doubt that, Lord Tyrion." I grin at the man.

"Does your offer still stand?"

"By all means." I say, pointing at the table. Tyrion Lannister sits down and in a matter of moments, our scattered group comes together again. I imagine that Tyrion joining us made it more interesting to sit and talk. I catch Robb smiling at me and I smile back, ignoring Oberyn that was sitting next to him.

"Well, there's a lot of us here, it will be difficult to hold a conversation," Tyrion sighs, sounding surprisingly sober. "Let us play a game then."

"A game?" Margery asks, smiling.

"Yes, my Lady. A drinking game I invented," he smiles at her. "The rules are very simple, really. I state a claim. It can be anything. For example, I am a Lannister. Now, who is a Lannister, has to drink. And if no one drinks, I have to drink. And we go in circles." He explains.

"Well, if you are going to claim that, you will die from poisoning soon enough." I tell him.

"I can only hope, my Lady," he nods, looking as if he would welcome death with open arms. "Alright, let us start. No pardon, no hurt feelings. I have never danced on a table." He announces. Margaery and I look at one another and toast before taking a sip. Sip, not a chug. This sounds like a long game.

"You are not making it fun, Lord Tyrion," Maragery shakes her head. "I have never kissed someone." She announces before taking a sip, and around the table, Jon, Robb and I join in. That was embarrassing.

"You are not making it fun either, my lady," Oberyn speaks up. "I have never been with a woman." He states before Margaery, Robb, Jon, Loras and I take a drink.

"Willas!" I gasp, realizing that he was not drinking.

"What? We were in Dorne!" He snaps, causing all of us to start laughing.

"I do not even want to know," I shake my head, realizing that I absolutely do not want to know who was the woman Willas was with. "I have never been with a man," I say, taking a sip, watching as Theon, Robb, Willas, Margaery, Tyrion and Jon take a drink. Even Loras did. Only Oberyn didn't.

"Do I sense judgment?" he asks when no one speaks up. "Men, women, all are sensual in their own way. Besides, a hole is a hole." He adds. In one second, all of us burst out laughing. We laugh out loud, all of us, even getting some curious looks in our direction. I cannot remember the last time I laughed so hard at some comment. Oberyn reduced me to tears with his words. "I am surprised you sipped, Clara. You seem… more experienced than that." He comments. I am too drunk to get insulted.

"Oh, how dare you," I laugh as others laugh with me. "I am a maid bred for marriage, Oberyn. Or, to make it more familiar to you, Untouched, Unbent, Unbroken."

This time, it was me who reduced everyone to tears. I could not help but feel proud of myself.

"It is "Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken", Clara," Oberyn corrects me.

"Oh, I know. I meant what I said." I tell him, beaming with pride as they all laugh. Hell, even Jon joined in on the laughter this time.

"Your game might be fun, Lord Tyrion, but in Dorne, we play a better one."

"No!" Willas and I jump up at the same time.

"Yes," Oberyn grins at us. "Truth or challenge. You chose one. If you chose the truth, I get to ask you a question, any question I want. If you chose a challenge, I can suggest any challenge. If you chose to refuse it, you do not take a sip, but you finish the entire drink." He explains. I knew the game a little too well and so did Willas. Everyone else was looking at Oberyn, slightly impressed.

"And who asks who?" Loras asks.

"No, we are not going to play this." I shake my head.

"Yes we are," Theon laughs. "That is what I call a good game."

"No, it is better not to play it." Willas agrees with me. The two of us have felt the wrath, both of the Dornish wine and Oberyn's challenges. We have learned from our mistakes. Everyone else around the table was more interested than worried. Soon enough, they will know why this game is only fun when someone else is playing it, not you.

"No, Willas, my friend," Oberyn laughs and I already know he has something in mind. "We all want to play. And the might Kraken seems to be interested in it, so why not start there. Theon Greyjoy, truth or challenge?" he asks him. Based on my own experience, it ends badly no matter what you chose.

I remember how I thought that truth was the better option. With challenges… well, I knew Oberyn well enough to know that his imagination will find a challenge I would not feel comfortable with completing. I was foolish enough to think that truth would be a better option. Of course, Oberyn would then come up with a question I did not feel comfortable answering. And yes, you can always chose to down your drink if you do not wish to do something, but after a certain period and a certain number of glasses, finishing your drink is no longer a good option.

"Truth." Willas tells Theon. "Say truth."

"Truth," I agree. "We do not know you. You can lie." I say.

"Challenge." Theon proudly states and I can only close my eyes in defeat. We tried warning him.

"Alright. Drop your trousers, Kraken and dance around the room." Oberyn tells him. I open my eyes, ready to see Theon choosing to finish his drink. Theon, however, was already drunk. Drunk enough to think this was a good idea. And in front of him was what has to be the largest goblet I have ever seen.

"I cannot drink this." He shakes his head.

"Down with the trousers then." Oberyn chuckles.

"I can't do that."

"Why, of course you can."

"We told you all this was a bad idea." I sigh as Willas nods.

"Maybe when it's our turn, but right now, it is the best idea ever," Robb asks and when I look up, I see Theon walking into the middle of the tavern and after taking a deep breath, he really does drop his trousers. We burst out laughing, while the other guests were shocked. As soon as the shock dies down, laughter fills the room as Theon dances around the room, tripping and skipping with his pants around his ankles and red in the face as the Lannister banner.

If I thought I was crying of laughter before… well, now I was crying and struggling to breathe and laugh at the same time. I do not know what the hell I was thinking when I decided to invite them all to join us, but despite all the worries, especially the ones my siblings had, this is turning out to be the best idea I have ever had. Or, it will be, until it is my turn to play.

"Right now," Theon announces as he walks over to our table, putting his pants back on. "You've had your fun. Let's see how long it will last. Jon. Truth or challenge?" he asks.

Ah, the other side of truth of challenge. If you are playing with a stranger or someone you do not know well enough, it will not be so bad. Their questions will be nothing more than guesses. If you are playing with someone you know, or in Jon's case, someone you grew up with… you are in trouble.

"Truth." Jon responds. At least he listened. Or maybe he just didn't want to dance around naked.

"Margaery or Clara?" Theon wiggles his eyebrows.

"Theon." Robb warns him. I look at him in surprise; I have never seen Robb look this serious. He was staring his friend down. I wonder if it is because it was a rude question, or if he wanted to keep me out of it. I suppose it is the first. I am hardly the love of his life.

"Very fun game, Prince Oberyn," Tyrion mumbles. "Very fun indeed."

"Just say a name, Jon," Margaery gives him a small smile. "You don't have to drink the whole thing. Just say a name. It is only a game. Neither Clara nor I will be insulted." He tells him. Jon looks at me.

"She's right," I confirm. "Just say a name. Do not fall for it. Play the game."

"Margaery."

In theory, I would not be insulted. I know the reality of it. I would have picked Margaery, if I was a man. All of them would pick Margaery and I know it. And in theory, I wouldn't be insulted. I did call it a game. In theory, it would all be perfect and I will laugh, knowing the answer was the logical one to make.

In reality, it hurt. Just a little, but it hurt.

"See?" I laugh. "Not insulted at all." I tell him and he gives me a small smile.

Perhaps I am a better pretender than Margaery is after all.

Common insecurities and alcohol are a dangerous mix. My mood was as bad now as it was good when I watched Theon bounce around the room.

"Wolf boy. Truth or challenge?" Oberyn asks.

"Hey, you can't go twice!" Loras complains.

"Of course I can, pretty one. I do what I want," Oberyn smiles at him. "So wolf boy, what will it be?"

"Truth." Robb responds. Thank Gods, I won't see him hopping around naked.

"Margaery or Clara?" Oberyn asks.

If I can recall correctly, there was a time when I wanted to stab him. If my memory serves me right, I wanted to stab him while we played this very game, down in Dorne. I did not stab him then and he was lucky I did not have a knife close to me now. If I had, I would stab him without thinking twice about it.

I would not aim to kill, but I would stab him before he even realized I reached for the knife.

"Clara."

I would lie if I said this was not a relief. It truly was. Perhaps I will not charm everyone, not even Jon Snow. And yes, most of them will still choose Margaery, for good reason. But one of them, at least one of them, would choose me. And it just so happens to be a contender for my hand in marriage. Whether he likes it or not. Well, whether he wants it or not.

"See? Not insulted at all." Margaery laughs. I do not look at her to see if she means it or not; she could fool all of them, but not me. Not her own family. However, I do not look at her. Realizing that this was the perfect opportunity for me to bend the iron, I smile at Robb. A quick smile, before looking away.

I did not expect Jon to be looking at me as well.

"Well then, I would really suggest a different game now." Willas speaks up. I could tell by the tone of his voice, he is not letting this one go. For the first time tonight, he was speaking as a Lord and heir. We all might be in the same position as he is, but he is also the host, along with Loras, Margaery and me.

This time, they listen to him. In Oberyn's case, I hope he learns as well.

* * *

We were making our way back through the labyrinth. The sun was yet to rise. We needed to be as quiet as we were when we left. Actually, we had to be even quieter. Before, they were all in the hall, eating, drinking and dancing. Now, they were all asleep. We needed to be very quiet and given that all of us were drunk, it was a quite a mission. Tyrion was leading the way, as the drunkest one of all, with Willas, as the most sober one, silencing him while trying to hold back his laughter. Tyrion was not an annoying drunk. Quite the opposite, he was fun and charming, even more than he is when sober. But he needed to be silenced and Willas took that role upon himself, as I made sure no one was left behind, walking in the back of the line with Robb.

"Thank you for the invitation, Clara," Robb tells me, keeping his voice low; not even Loras and Theon, who were walking before us, could hear what he said. "It was fun and we needed it. Thank you."

"You are very welcome," I smile at him. "Yes, for the most part, it was fun. I am sorry for Oberyn, I have to say. He is a very dear friend of mine, but sometimes he does not choose his words carefully." I say.

"And I am sorry for Theon, for the very same reasons." He tells me.

"Don't be," I shake my head. "Oberyn is the one who took it too far. He knows my weaknesses."

"Aye, and Theon knows mine," he nods. "Making my brother chose between the two of you… Theon killed two birds with one stone. He annoyed me and Jon with the very same question."

"Friends sometimes just know too much," I smile up at him. "However, Oberyn will live to see another day. Your answer did not bother me."

"Will I live to see another day?"

"Absolutely," I smile. "Who will I dance with if you don't?"

"Jon? Unless he dances with Margaery?" Robb asks and I start laughing; this time, Theon and Loras do hear us and while they turn around, they do not comment. "I will not live after this one, will I?"

"Oh, you will," I smile as I link our hands. "After all, I would chose you over Jon as well." I say, and knowing I might be making a mistake, I stop. My hand pulls him back and when he looks at me in confusion, I raise myself and I plant a kiss on his cheek. In all honesty, I was still drunk enough to move that kiss a little bit to the right, but I knew that I will not be drunk permanently. I might regret it by the time I wake up and it is not like we were alone.

Earlier tonight, I have heard that he had never kissed someone. If I did not know that information, I would be surprised with the blush he had in his cheeks. But I do know. And when he smiles at me, I know that it was not a mistake.

For all I know, he will be my first kiss. Seven Hells, if I play my cards well, I will be his first kiss as well.

Well, better him than someone who would choose my sister over me.


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm back, I'm back, I'm back!**

 **And I'm writing, as you can see! I also have a new story! Yup, I went and done it; I started a new GOT story, with the two I am already writing. Please, check it out. It is called The Missing Pieces and I think it's a pretty cool idea.**

 **Now, for this one. I have a lot of work to do over the next week or two, so I will do my best to update soon. Hopefully, I will have a new chapter up by the end of the week.**

 **Please, leave a review. Let me know what you think. It means A LOT to me. This story kind of exploded and I am super proud of it. As for the pairings… I don't want to spoil anything to you, but I told you before: more than one pairing. Hints are dropped here and there. I can promise you, there will be twists and turns and not everything will go down as you expect it to.**

 **It's gonna be freaking awesome!**

 **So, let me know what you think! Follow, Favorite, Review. You know the drill! I hope you like this one!**

* * *

I knew it was going to happen and I was taken aback all the same; as soon as my brother unhorsed Dickon Tarly, everyone jumped up from their seats, cheering and clapping their hands ferociously. When your favorite wins, it matters not if you are a lord, a lady, a King or a peasant; you clap and you cheer.

I cheered Loras on, grinning at him as he rode past us, celebrating his victory; Margaery, Willas and I jumped up at the very same time and we were showing off our Tyrell pride. The fact that his opponent was Dickon Tarly made it all the better to me; it is only the first round and the overly confident fool has been defeated. Unfortunately for me, I have a slight suspicion he will not leave straight away after his loss; oh well, it cannot all be perfect.

It had finally started. After days of hosting and feasts, it was finally happening, the reason everyone travelled to Highgarden to begin with. Today and the day after will be focused on the jousting events and we will have a winner. Afterwards, the sword fighting starts and when that is over and done with, archery follows it. Personally, I think that will be more interesting to watch. Jousting is fun, but it has nothing to do with capability. You simply use a wooden stick to push your opponent of the horse. However, watching Dickon Tarly roll around in dirt was rather enjoyable.

"Loras will definitely win this," Margaery states as our brother rides away and the crowd returns to their seats. "No one can compare to him."

"Give it time," Willas warns her, still grinning. "For all we know, the others are better."

"Who is next?" I ask them.

"Jaime Lannister against Edmure Tully," Margaery informs me, "They will probably take their time."

That is the worst thing about jousting events. They are actually really slow. The actual duel lasts only a few moments, as long as it takes for the horses to run the distance. It is over in moments, and the time that passes between two duels is usually quite dull. Everything needs to be cleared out, more drinks need to be passed and the other competitors need to prepare themselves.

"Afterwards, it's… Beric Dondarrion against your favorite warrior, Clara," Willas tells me, raising his eyebrows in my direction. He did not give me one moment of peace. No matter what we are doing or what we are talking about, Willas found a way to bring it all back down to Robb Stark.

"Then we have Oberyn against Jason of House Mallister," Margaery speaks up before I have a chance to pick a fight with my older brother. "It will go on for hours."

"In that case, I have to go and eat something," I tell them as I stand up from my seat, hoping that my sudden disappearance will not draw attention, "If I rush, I might just return in time for the next duel."

"Do hurry sister, you would not want to miss your favorite!" Willas laughs.

"To think that you were my favorite sibling," I sigh, shaking my head as both he and our sister laugh at my comments. "I will be back soon." I say as I make my way through the benches. It was easy here; we were not surrounded by such a crowd, since we were the hosts and therefore had the best seats in the house. Hoping that no one of importance will see me making my exit, I leave.

Unfortunately for me, a lot of spectators decided to do the same as I did; use the empty time in between two duels to eat, drink or simply stretch their legs out from all the sitting. I was caught in a crowd in a matter of seconds. At least no one even looked at me twice, let alone recognized me. It was easy to fit in as one of them, just as it was not easy to glide through the actual group of people.

It takes me a while to escape. Once I finally succeeded, I carry on, smiling as I walk up and down the streets of Highgarden, watching everything that is going on. I thought I had seen it all over the last few nights. How I was wrong.

I doubt there is an empty room in Highgarden. All the inns and taverns must be packed. Our town is known as one that welcomes singers and acrobats whenever they knock on our gates, but this all was something else. I cannot remember hearing so much laughter, both from children and adults. A different song was playing at each corner. It was impossible not to smile as you walked through all of that.

After a few turns and shortcuts, I end up back at the castle, walking through one of plenty of back entrances that were empty. At least I thought so, right until Jon Snow jumped out from the next corner, making me slam directly into him.

"We need to stop meeting like this," I laugh, hoping that a joke could make this less uncomfortable. I am unsure if it worked or not, but the corners of his mouth do lift up, if only a little. "I am sorry for this, I was… in a rush. Why are you here?" I ask, confused as to why he was not out there. Everyone else was.

"Robb managed to rip his undershirt, the one that goes under chainmail," he tells me, lifting up the piece of clothing he held in his arms. "We need to get it fixed before it's his turn."

"So… you are acting as his squire?" I ask in confusion.

"No, of course not," Jon shakes his head, frowning. "Robb doesn't even have a squire. What he needs done, he does himself. It's just that he doesn't have time now. I went to look for a maid that can sew but all of them appear to be at the tourney."

I don't think I have ever heard him speak so many words at once.

"Well, you are a lucky man, Jon Snow," I smile, watching as he frowns even more; and here I thought that was impossible. He does not appear to be daft, but he does need me to explain everything in fine detail. "I am here. I can sew. It will be ready in no time."

"You don't have to do that, my lady. I am sure…"

"Yes, I do," I interrupt him. "Besides, it is truly not a problem. Just let me find some needle and thread." I say. Looking around, I recognize one of the storage rooms, only three doors down from us. I wave him over and he follows me. I was glad to see that the room had plenty of light; it was a bright, sunny day and it would be easy for me to see what I was doing. I find the supplies in no time and as soon as I do, I wave Jon over. He gives me the undershirt and stands next to me in complete silence as I start my work.

I want to say something but I do not know what. Out of all of them, out of all of our guests, Jon is the one I did not connect with. Whenever I tried, he would become cold and distant. And in all honesty, I did not even try that hard. I could see that he was a quiet man. If I was to try and force words out of him, it will become only worse. So, I work in silence. The tear in the shirt is not even that big.

"How come you know how to sew, my lady?" Jon asks. My fingers stop moving and I look up, earning a confused look from him. I had to check, I had to be sure. He actually asked me a question about myself.

"Many ladies know how to sew."

"I don't think so," he shakes his head. I was about to ask him if he is a lady himself, when he knows it so well, but I bite my tongue; if there was any progress between us that was made, a comment like that would surely ruin it. "Is it something you do regularly?" he asks.

"Not really," I shake my head, going back to the needle in my hand, sewing the shirt with ease. "In case of an emergency, I might fix a dress or two. Is that such a surprise to you?" I ask, sneaking a look at him; he did not have time to control his expression; the raised eyebrows showed me that it is a surprise to him. I might be a lady but I am not incompetent. "Do not underestimate a woman, Jon Snow. Not me, not any other. We know more than we show and often more than you think." I tell him.

"I never underestimated you," he shakes his head. "I am simply surprised you know how to sew.

"And why is that?" I ask him, keeping my eyes on the stitch I was making. "Because I am a lady? Because I come from a rich house? Or is it because I never do anything by myself? I do not know what kinds of ladies you have encountered in your life, Jon, but most of us are not afraid of lifting up a fallen piece of cloth or of a spider." I tell him. I am not some surprisingly brave woman; I am speaking for a group. Margaery is equally as capable as I am, if not more. So is my mother. Just because we were born in a nice house does not mean we are incapable of performing basic tasks like heating up the water or sewing an undershirt. "Septa Ava was very thorough. She taught us everything we needed to know and more." I add, not wanting to be rude to him.

"What else do you know to do, my lady?" he asks. I look up at him, surprise to see that he was asking with curiosity and not in a condescending way.

"I know how to cook a whole meal," I shrug, continuing with my work. "I know how to light a fire. I know how to wash clothes. I might not do all of that on a daily basis. After all, I am lucky enough to have someone else do it for me. But that does not mean I do not know how to do it myself."

"Why did you learn it if you will never need it, my lady?"

"Well, for one, I was a very energetic child," I smile at the memory of how my parents and Septa did not know what to do with me or how to keep me occupied. "I was curious. Besides, I need it now, to sew up Robb's shirt. As it turns out, I do need it after all. And call me Clara."

"Thank you for your help, Clara."

"No need to thank me," I smile at him. "I am happy to help your brother. And you as well."

"Clara, I wanted to apologize for…"

"Jon!" A voice calls out and I recognize it at once; it was Robb. I did not get the chance to find out what Jon felt the need to apologize for and frankly, when I see Robb's eyes go wide when he sees me, it does not even matter. "Lady Clara." He greets me in surprise. I smile at him and lift up his shirt.

"Only a few more moves and it will be done and ready," I say, making the last few stitches. Not having a knife or something sharp at hand, I simply cut the thread with my teeth and lift the shirt up, proudly looking at my work; you cannot even see the stitches if you do not hold it close to your eyes. "There we go. Lord Robb, you are ready for your duel." I say and smirk as I throw him the shit. I could tell that he was not expecting me to do what I did, but still, he catches the shirt without batting an eye.

"Thank you, Clara. You are a life saver." He tells me, causing me to roll my eyes.

"Anytime," I smile at him. "Good luck today. Jon, I hope to see you around as well." I say, smiling at both of them before making my way out of the room.

"Clara!" Robb calls after me; I haven't even left the hallway. When I turn around I see him running towards me. "Thank you. Truly."

"You and your brother both thanked me more than enough," I smile at him. "It was nothing. Only a moment of my time and I was glad to help."

"Clara, may I ask you something?" Robb asks and I notice that he appears to be nervous.

"Of course." I say, feeling worry grow. I do not remember seeing Robb as nervous as he appears to be now. And I did catch him off guard a few times before.

"Please, feel free to refuse if… if you do not want to," he tells me. With each word, the worry in me grows. "I wanted to ask for your permission to wear a favor of yours today, when I duel." He utters.

I smile at the man, doing my best not to laugh; I did not wish to shatter his ego today.

"Gods Robb, I thought it was something serious," I chuckle, watching as he finally relaxes. "Of course you may. But I am afraid I have nothing on me at the moment that I could…" I start, only to remember I do have a piece of jewelry on me. I lift my right sleeve up and with a little bit of struggle, I manage to take off a thin silver bracelet with a tiny rose pendant on it. I smile as I put the bracelet in his hand. "I hope it brings you luck, Robb. I'll be watching." I say, and with no other words, I turn around and leave.

I was grinning all the way back to the jousting pit. I completely forgot about the reason why I left it to begin with. The hunger I felt in my stomach was replaced with something else, something I can't define.

This is the sign I needed from him. Asking for my favor for today's joust is not a marriage proposal but it is the sign I needed. Whatever it is that is going on between the two of us, it is not just… manners and friendliness. It actually feels exciting and fun. Not to mention that it is a great honor to be asked for a favor. It has never happened to me before. Usually, the women who are asked for it are usually either married or promised to the one who is asking. No, it is not a marriage proposal. But I no longer think that the Queen of Thorns was right when she said none of them would even consider marrying me.

It was flattering. It always is. I remember when Oberyn first started flirting with me mercilessly. I was confused and very flattered. Of course, it did not take me long to realize that Oberyn flirted with every warm blooded human being he was not related to. This was different. Robb Stark does not look like the type of man that flirts with anyone. And he asked me for a favor, not my sister, not someone else. With him doing what he did, Dickon Tarly's face in dirt and having a proper conversation with Jon Snow, I could call today a good day. A very good day indeed.

Jaime Lannister unhorsed Edmure Tully at once. I applauded him and smiled, although my reasons had nothing to do with his victory.

"How come you look so happy?" Margaery asks me, keeping her voice low. I imagine she does not want Willas to hear, since he would find a way to tease me for that as well. "Did something happen?"

"Nothing worth mentioning." I tell her, feeling my face hurt from my smile.

"Clara…" Margaery says in a warning tone. "What is the matter?"

"Nothing, truly." I reassure her. I do have a reason for grinning like a fool, but when I said it was nothing worth mentioning, I meant it. Robb asking the question he asked meant something to me, but it could never mean anything to someone else. To my sister, it could only mean that he likes me well enough, which is something Margaery already suspected and pointed out to me, on various occasions.

"I never could follow the changes in your mood, but this is something else entirely," she comments, looking at me in suspicion. "Just days ago, you were against this tourney. You considered it torture."

"And now I am having fun," I shrug. "I am trying to look at the bright side, Margaery. It was going to happen, whether I enjoyed it or not. And since it is already happening, I might as well just enjoy it. I get to talk to some very nice, intelligent and fun people. I get to watch our brother bring victories to our family. Do you think it would be better of me to keep sulking?"

"No," she shakes her head. "I simply wonder what brought on such a change."

"Nothing worth mentioning," I repeat the same words as I used before. "Let's watch, shall we?"

"Watch what?" Willas speaks up, joining our conversation. "As they clean up the pit?"

"And why are you so grumpy?" Margery turns to him. "The two of you are acting as if you have switched places. All of a sudden, you are all sunshine and flowers and you are full of irony."

"The last tourney I was at did not end well for me," Willas tells her, as if any of us needed a reminder of it. "I think I am allowed to have a grumpy moment or two."

"Willas…" I start.

"I'm fine," he interrupts me, smiling at me and then at our sister. "I just hate this wait. I know my sister is dying to see her favorite lord and fighter compete."

Of course, he had to do it.

"I cannot say when or how, but you will pay for all of this."

"I love you too, sister," he tells me, giving me his most angelic smile. No matter how big of an idiot he can be, I love him to death. I always will. Besides, he is not like this all the time. I think he might have been spending a bit too much time with Tyrion Lannister and Oberyn; their attitudes are rubbing off on him. I would be enjoying the change, had I not been the primary target of his teasing. "Ah, here is your man." Willas announces and as soon as I look down to the pit, the crowd erupted again.

It was obvious that Robb was the favorite. Beric Dondarrion had his charms, but he was not the future lord of Winterfell. I have to admit, Lord Beric is a very good looking man. He was also very kind whenever I had a chance to speak to him. That being said, he was clearly not my favorite in this duel.

A part of me wanted Robb to look my way. That was the weak part of me, the part that enjoys attention and needs reassurance. Another part of me knew it would be for the best if Robb kept his focus on the challenge before him and not on me. I prefer that part. It is much stronger and more independent than the other one. As I waited for the two of them to charge at one another, I felt actual fear. It was ridiculous and I knew it, but it did not change the way I felt. People say that these kinds of tournaments are safe. No one fights to the death; it is purely fun. Be that as it may, my brother became a cripple at one of these tournaments. Every time I watch Loras charge, my heart skips a beat and I hold my breath until I know for a fact that he is well. Now I find myself having the same fear for Robb.

I like the man. He has been nothing but nice to me. Charming as well. If my marriage is to be arranged, Robb is a good choice in my eyes. He is a friend to me now. I do not want to see him hurt.

I hold my breath. I clench my fists, feeling nails digging into my skin as I watch Robb charge at Beric Dondarrion. I jump up when I hear the horrible sound of a hit into someone's armor and I finally release the breath I've been holding when I see Beric Dondarrion falling off of his horse.

I clap with the rest of them, embracing the relief I felt which grew even stronger once I saw that Lord Beric was not injured at all. I clap and I laugh as I watch Robb's victory lap around the pit. He slows his horse down when he comes closer to us, moving slow enough for me to notice a change in pace. He waves at the crowd but looks directly at me, smiling.

"Oh Clara," I hear Margaery sigh and I look away from Robb, who was now making his way out of the pit. "That was your bracelet he had in his hand when he waved, wasn't it?" she asks.

"What?"

Not only is it not something I want to admit, but I did not notice him actually holding it in his hand.

"I have the same one, Clara," Margaery shakes her head. I look at Willas, who was engaged in a conversation with Loras, who had just joined us. I should have known Margaery would recognize the bracelet as soon as she saw it, but I did not expect her to actually see it. "It's the one Mother gave us, with a silver rose, isn't it?" she asks me.

"He asked for my favor," I confess, surprised to see her actually smiling. Only a moment ago, she sounded worried, "I would have given him something else, as I adore that bracelet, but it was the only thing I had on me. I could not decline him, could I?"

"No, I suppose you couldn't, given that he is one of your possible matches," Margaery agrees. "But I know you well, Clara. You did not just give it because it would be rude to decline. You gave it to him because you wanted him to have it. You have fallen, sister."

"I haven't," I shake my head. And I am not lying. "He is a friend now. A friend and my best option, but I have not fallen, I promise you that."

* * *

"Clara, my love, what will happen to me?" Oberyn asks.

"What do you mean?" I frown as I take a sip of wine. As expected, tonight's feast was the grandest one so far. Everyone was drunker, the music was louder and the laughter did not stop once. I was seated next to Oberyn and I truly enjoyed our conversation. His worried tone worried me as well.

"What will happen to me when I fight your wolf boy?" Oberyn asks. I roll my eyes, annoyed at his teasing. As if Willas was not enough for me to handle. "Will you cheer for me or for him? If I defeat him, will you despise me?"

"Stop it," I warn him, frowning at him. "For all we know, the two of you will not duel at all. And if you do… well, I am afraid I have to support the man that might just end up being my husband."

"Is it going well, then?" Oberyn asks, and this time, he was smiling. It looks as if he is actually happy to hear that there has been improvement and that the lessons he gave me in seduction actually worked.

"Very well, I believe," I smile at him. "He asked for my favor today. I am still unsure whether or not he would be interested for my hand in marriage but I do think he likes me. Surprisingly enough, I think I like him as well." I admit. It was not easy for me to say it out loud, but if there was someone I could confide in, it was Oberyn. Well, I could confide in Willas, but he would tease me. And I cannot say what Margaery would think about my little confession.

"It is not enough," Oberyn tells me, shaking his head. His words surprise me; I thought he would be glad to hear it. "Sometimes, emotions grow. It takes time for them to reach the level they need to be on. It grows and yes, it can be strong and true. But real, mad love… it does not start with "liking" someone. It starts with someone taking over your every thought, creeping up on you when you least expect it. You may like the wolf boy. For all we know, you might end up loving him one day. But liking someone is not enough. Love is much more than that. Passion is much more than that."

"Oberyn, it never was about love," I sigh. "It would be lovely if it was, or if it ends up being that way, but it was about marriage, not love. The two do not go hand in hand at all times. More often than not, they are not connected at all. The way I see it, if he does end up asking for my hand in marriage, I will be lucky enough to actually like my husband. At least I would not despise him or be afraid of him."

"But it is not love," Oberyn tells me with a small smile. No matter what I say, he does not give up. Perhaps he has a point, but I stated my opinion. It is not about love. And because of that, it does not matter that it is not love. "When you feel true love, you will know how pale it is in comparison."

"Perhaps I will never feel it at all."

"Perhaps you will feel it with the wolf boy," Oberyn suggests. "We never know what tomorrow brings, my love. No matter what awaits you, I hope for your happiness. You deserve it."

"Thank you," I mumble in a low voice, feeling a little bit embarrassed and humbled. "You are a wonderful friend, Oberyn."

"I know," he chuckles. "Which is why I take my leave now." He tells me as he stands up and leaves even before I have a chance to stop him or ask him what he is talking about. As he walks away, I realize the reason for his exit. Robb was walking my way; Oberyn must have seen him from afar. He smiles as he makes his way to my end of the table and I look around, feeling relieved no one is close enough to hear the conversation we will have; I do not know what words we will exchange, but at least it will be private.

"You did well today," I smile up at him as he walks around the table to take the seat that was occupied by Oberyn until moments ago. "It almost looked easy."

"It almost was," he chuckles as he sits down next to me. "I have to admit, this whole tournament and our stay at Highgarden ended up being more… fun than I expected it to be."

"Easy now, we still have days to go," I warn him with a smile. "I hope the rest goes well. I am glad to hear that you are enjoying your stay. Although, I have to admit, I was not looking forward to all of this. I did not want this, but it ended up being more fun than I expected it to be."

"I enjoy your company, Clara," Robb tells me. "And our friendship. If I can call it friendship."

"Of course you can," I let out a chuckle. "I had so much fun with you over these few days. Jon and Theon as well. We had a blast, Robb. I do not remember the last time I laughed as hard as I did when I watched Theon skipping around the tavern with his pants down."

"It truly was memorable," Robb agrees. "Yours and your siblings' hospitality… People in the North tend to look at you Southerners with judgment. We are different and I notice the difference but you have been nothing but kind. A perfect host and a dear friend."

"Thank you," I smile at him. "Although I am afraid your brother still thinks of us the same way."

"He doesn't, trust me," Robb shakes his head. "Jon is very… quiet. When we were younger, I used to make fun of him always sulking. His smiles are as rare as a sunny day north of the Wall. Trust me; he has a good opinion of all of you. He likes you."

"He does like Margaery better." I joke, making Robb laugh.

"Well, the way everyone keeps looking at us, I think it is me who has to like you."

"I agree," I smile. He is thinking about a possible marriage. I know it, I know it. He is not daft. He knows that I am available and as far as I know, so is he. He knows our two houses do not have a strong alliance and that it would be good to change that. And he did call me a friend. We are thinking in the same direction and I can see him considering the possibility, but I will keep my mouth shut until I know for a fact that it is a possibility he wants to see happen. "People talk, with or without reason. I say, we leave them be and toast a new friendship." I say as I raise my goblet.

"To a new friendship," he says as we clink our goblets. He takes a sip of wine and as soon as he puts the goblet down, he pulls something out of his pocket; I recognize my bracelet at once, the same one I gave him earlier today. "I believe I have something of yours. And I believe you want it back."

"Keep it," I say, smiling when he raises his eyebrows in surprise. "It's a long tournament, Robb. I do not want you asking for my favor every day. It is yours until the end."

"Thank you." he smiles as he returns the bracelet in his pocket. "I will keep it close. It did bring me luck."

"Let's hope it does not leave you," I chuckle. "And if it does, well, I have bracelets, cloths, necklaces… you can take your pick. So long as you want it, my favor is yours."

"The way you talk, I'd think you were hoping for my victory and not your brothers." He laughs.

"I am," I admit with a shrug. "I love Loras to pieces, but he is cocky," I say, earning a surprised laughter from him. "It would be nice to see him grounded once again."

"You do realize that if I win, you will have a crown of roses in your hands, don't you?"

Now, this I was not expecting. It is a tradition for the winner of a tournament to select a woman, any woman at all, to give her a crown of roses and proclaim her a Queen of Love and Beauty. To women, it is a big deal. It is a great honor and I imagine it feels very flattering. The victor often chooses his own wife or a woman he intends to court. With saying these words to me, Robb confirmed it.

Of course, it is still not certain. It will never be, not until the day of our wedding comes, if it ever does. But it is a sign. A massive sign, a sign of his intentions.

"It is not my place to speculate, Robb," I say with a small smile. "If so, I will be flattered. People talk and I hear the whispers. As do you. Do not do something you do not want to do."

If he does not intend to court me, he should not do it. I do not want him to do it. It will only cause confusion with me and it will only enforce whispers. If those whispers lead to nothing… well, it is not something I would like to live with. I do not want him to do it if he does not plan to court me. And I think he can understand that from the words I said to him.

"Oh, I know what it means," he tells me and this time, he is not smiling. "We do not speak directly of it, but I know very well what it means, Clara. So do you. Rest assured, I would not be doing it if I did not want to do it. If I win, the crown is yours." He promises.

"If you win, I would be honored."

He actually likes the idea. As uncertain as it is… it is the best I had so far. One of my possible suitors is actually well aware that he is one of my possible suitors. And he is fine with it.

I said it before and I will say it again. As far as possible husbands go, Robb Stark is a damn good choice.

I am happy. Maybe, just maybe, it will not be as difficult as I imagined it to be. Maybe I will be lucky enough to see all of these pieces fit perfectly in their place.

Deep down, I know Robb could make me happy. As I told Oberyn, I like him. He is a friend. He is not old enough to be my father. He does not seem like a vile, abusive man. If he is his father's son, and people say he is, he values honor more than anything. Robb is a man who would honor and respect his wife and treat her well, even if he does not love her madly. If he decides to marry me… I will be lucky.

"In that case, let's hope I win."


	9. Chapter 9

**Here we go guys, here's another one for you! I hope you like it. I have teamed up with the most amazing beta, darkwolf76! Go check out her GOT story, it's amazing!**

 **I hope you like this one, I really do. I'm splitting time between three stories, Running up that hill, The Missing Pieces and this one. Add to that a full time job and I'm losing it. As long as I can function on 5 hours of sleep, I'll keep on writing! And nothing gives me more motivation than reviews *wink, wink***

 **So, let me know what you think, if you like it or not. It means a lot to me. :)**

 **Oh, and starfallen, I couldn't respond to your review so here it goes: THANK YOU! I'm not giving up on this, trust me. And I'll do my best to work on the connections :)**

 **Let's get going then! See ya soon! :)**

* * *

I laugh as I take a turn behind one of the green hedges. I put a hand over my mouth, still giggling with joy, knowing that I should stay quiet if I wish to win.

I never was one for persistence, but I do my best to contain myself, despite how loudly I want to laugh.

Even my breath, I try to control. Persistence might have been foreign to me, but I have always been _very_ competitive, ever since I was a child. Margaery learned that the hard way. Willas simply laughed at it and Loras would narrow his eyes in suspicion, being equally as competitive as I was.

With great effort, I manage to block out all of the noises surrounding me; leaves moving in the wind, the wind itself, birds and their lovely, early morning songs. I close my eyes and I listen, pretending I hear nothing but silence. One by one, each of the noises becomes less prominent and suddenly, I could make out silent, careful footsteps, making their way in my direction. Well, in my general direction. Unlike my darling opponent, I actually know this labyrinth. But him? He was blind.

I listen to the footsteps as they get closer to me and I feel a smile on my face when they pass right by my hiding spot.

"I've got you!" I shout, jumping from between the hedges.

"Clara!" Bran jumps up in surprise, turning around fast with his eyes as wide as a doe's. His confused facial expression only made me laugh even more. "That was not funny!" he protests, stomping his foot in anger.

"Oh, yes it was," I chuckle. As much as I am laughing, I am actually holding back, not wanting to hurt the little boy's feelings. "I'm sorry, little lord. It was too good of an opportunity for me to miss it."

"Fair enough," he smiles up at me. "You didn't break any of the rules."

"Of course not," I gasp, pretending to be shocked by his comments. "Do I look as if I ever break rules?"

"Yes," he admits, making me chuckle. "I like to break rules too." He adds.

"Of course you do, my little lord," I smile as I ruffle his hair. He looks more like Lord Eddard than his brother does. Robb takes a lot after Lady Stark, I imagine. I do not think I have ever seen her in my entire life, but there is almost no resemblance between him and his Lord Father. Not in appearance, that is. When I look at his stance, or at his facial expressions, I do notice Lord Eddard. Bran looked more like a true Stark, but neither one of them could compare to Jon, Lord Eddard's son, through and through. The Gods made a sick jest when they made a bastard look like a double of the father. "Enjoy it while it lasts, Bran. When you grow up, rules become a part of you. Even if you can afford to break them, you do not enjoy it, not nearly as you did when you were a child."

"Is it wrong to wish to be a child forever?" he asks, his eyes carrying that innocence I envy him for.

"Of course not, Bran," I smile down at him. "I wish I was a child forever too. But, I'm not. I'm a woman grown and a woman who your father will kill if I don't return you to him soon enough."

"Don't be ridiculous," Bran laughs. "My father likes you well enough."

"Oh, does he now?" I laugh myself, not taking Bran at his word. Lord Eddard has been nothing but kind, but I did not get an impression that he holds me in any special high regard.

"Yes, he does," Bran reassures me. Children do not recognize irony, I tend to forget. "He likes you and so does Robb." He adds. And he does not know irony.

"Well, if you say so," I smile. "Alas, your other brother does not appear to feel the same."

"Jon?" Bran asks in surprise. "He likes you as well, Clara. He always sulks, that's all." he defends his brother and I have to bite my lip to prevent myself from bursting into laughter yet again.

"If you say so, little lord. The Greyjoy doesn't like me, at least."

"Yes he does," Bran protests. "I think he likes you more than anyone else."

"Oh Gods," I sigh, trying to hide a smile. "Your ears are far too young for that talk, dearest Bran," I mumble as I put my hands over his ears. Men talk, I know that. I know that very well. But I expected men to be careful on what they say in front of children. Bran is a boy, not a man. A boy of nine.

"What kind of talk?" he asks.

"Brandon Stark!" a roar makes us both jump up; I frantically turn around, half expecting an assassin to be coming at us. The voice frightened me so much; I did not even notice that it had a Northern accent to it. I breathe a sigh of relief when I notice Jon Snow walking our way, his hair bouncing behind him as he goes. I smile, only to notice he was shooting daggers with his eyes at his younger brother. "Where in the Seven Hells have you been?" he asks in anger as he stands before Bran.

"Right here," Bran defends himself. "I was playing hide and go seek with Clara."

"Forgive me, Jon," I speak up for the boy. Jon narrows his eyes at me. Gods, he can look intimidating when he wants to. "I found Bran playing around and I felt like a child myself. And believe me when I say it, there is no better place to play hide and go seek than in a labyrinth garden."

"I'll take your word for it," he mumbles. I think I liked him better when he was calling me my lady and avoiding my eyes. Well, most of the time. I can still recall that one night, when I was standing on the balcony and our eyes met. I held his attention and he held mine, for just a moment too long. "Father will kill you if we don't return." He tells his younger brother.

"I will take blame from Lord Eddard," I interrupt again. "It is my fault, after all."

"No, it's not," Bran speaks up, defending me.

"Bran, stop it," Jon warns him. "No one will have to take the blame if we return at once," Jon tells me. Feeling as if I was being scolded by my grandmother, I nod my head and I follow him, with Bran running by my side to stick to our pace.

"What is so urgent?" Bran asks and I am glad; I am curios as well.

"This is not our home, Bran," Jon tells him. "Father does not want you climbing walls and getting into trouble."

"Climbing walls?" I ask in confusion.

"Yes," Bran beams up at me. "I climb walls, all day, every day."

"And nearly give your Lady mother a heart attack each time," Jon adds. "We are guests here, Bran. We must behave properly."

I do not remember them behaving properly when I took them to the tavern. It is not my place to meddle in their relationship, but it is clear as day that Jon is being too hard on the child. While that is Jon's decision, I know just how much a good relationship between siblings is needed. I have three siblings, who I love dearly. We are as strong as a team because we have never been strict with one another. We have been partners in crime, from the very start. Although, in Jon's defense, he is a man grown and Bran is still a child. Willas, Loras, Margery and I are much closer in age than the two of them are.

"Jon, he is not misbehaving if I invited him to play in the garden," I tell him, earning another frown in my direction. "I am sorry I did not speak to Lord Stark beforehand. I can assure you it will not happen again, but if you are going to chastise someone, chastise me for not thinking and not a child for being a child."

"It is not my place to chastise you, my lady."

"It is if I have done something to wrong you," I tell him. It does not take me long to realize that this is not about Bran or what is right and what is wrong. It is more about Jon's insecurities than about anything else. "Do you ever wonder, Jon, if the people do not treat you as an equal because you do not treat yourself as an equal to them?" I ask. It all comes from his head. Sadly, if he was not able to teach himself that in all his years, I doubt I will be able to make him see sense now.

"I am not equal to you, my lady. You know that very well."

It does not escape my notice how his tone changed when he called me by my title.

"You are in my eyes," I say, increasing my speed as I walk away from him. "And do be careful on what you say in front of the child. Theon, especially. He may not understand but he can remember."

I am too… I am not angry. I am not insulted, either. I suppose I simply feel too uncomfortable to walk with him. The way his eyes look at me, as if they can see past my pretty Tyrell facade… it is so far from the reality of the situation. He does not bother to look past the appearance. I thought he did, for a moment, the last time we had a conversation. His words today confirm that he did not. He only sees a lady, a lady from a rich house. A lady who was raised to knit by the fire and laugh and look pretty. He does not bother to look past that, to see me for the woman that I am. His brother does. Robb does not see me as a piece of clay that is to be shaped by his hands. He knows I am my own person, and unlike his brother, he has shown some genuine interest in knowing the person that I am. His mind is not limited in the ways that Jon's is.

Then again, Robb was not raised a bastard, with everyone (judging) his every move.

I am sure Jon is this way because life made him like that. It is not a choice of his. But just for once, I would like to see him not caring about tiles or lack thereof; I would like to see him as a simple man, having a conversation with me, nothing more than a simple woman.

I race ahead of Jon and Bran, not wanting to continue the uncomfortable conversation; I am the first one out of the three of us to notice Lord Eddard, looking around as if he was searching for something.

"Lord Stark!" I call for him and when he turns around, he offers me a kind smile. "Little lord Bran was with me, my lord," I tell him. "Please accept my sincerest apologies. I realize I should have informed you that he was in my company; we had too much fun and I forgot about my manners. When Jon spoke of your worry, I realize I was mistaken. It will not happen again, I can assure you."

"It is not a problem, Lady Clara," he reassures me. "I hope he did not bother you."

"Not at all, Lord Stark," I smile. "Little lord Bran is a very kind child. If I may say so, all of your children are very well raised. You and your lady wife did quite a job. Even if some are less kind than others," I add, being unable to stop myself. "My apologies, my lord, once again. If I ever decide to disappear with Lord Bran, I will be sure to inform of you before I do. If I may be excused."

I should not have done that. I should not have implied that one of his children was not kind to me. I imagine he knows his sons well, just as I imagine that he has noticed the friendship blossom between Robb and me. If he paid any attention to my words, and now, I hope he did not, it will not take him long to realize which son of his I was speaking of.

I simply do not understand it. I was not raised in such away. When someone offers me kindness, I do my best to reply in the same manner. I fight kindness with kindness. That is what my mother told me, that is what is carved in my mind, despite how much my grandmother tried to change that. I have been nothing but kind to Jon. All of them, in equal measure. Robb is kind. Little Bran is kind. Seven Hells, even Theon is kinder than Jon! I cannot fathom it and it bothers me, much more than it should.

"Clara!" I hear a voice and this time, I recognize the accent and I smile to myself. "Do you mind if I keep you company?" Robb asks and I turn around to smile at him.

"Not at all," I reply, nodding my head towards the fountain before me. "Did anyone tell you of this fountain?" I ask him.

"No, I'm afraid. You are the only one who has been acting as a guide of Highgarden to me."

"Well, there is a story," I tell him, looking down at the water before me, glistening in the sunlight. I stare at my reflection and when he joins me, I stare at his. He does not look at the water. He keeps his eyes on me, giving me his full attention. "It is believed that if you toss a coin into this fountain, over your shoulder, and imagine a wish, that wish will be granted. It matters not how unrealistic the wish might be. With this magical fountain, everything is possible." I tell him.

"Will you be wishing on my victory today?" he laughs.

"No," I tell him, noticing his reflection frown in surprise. "Not because I do not want you to win. I won't do it because the wish would not be granted. See, the legend goes that the coin should stay in the fountain for good. I threw many, many coins in it before realizing that at night, when they believe that no one is watching them, servants and the poor folk grab the coins out, in exchange for a full belly tomorrow." I tell him. "I do not wish to brag of my House, so do not mistake this speech for that. That being said, our servants live better than most servants. Our poor folk do not starve. We have fresh fruit, grain, everything your heart could desire. We have gold as well. Whispers say we may have more than the Lannister do, which is preposterous, of course. This fountain may not be magical. It may not grant you any wishes, it may not do you any good, but to me, it serves as a symbol. It does not matter how much or how little someone has in the Reach, or anywhere else for that matter; some always want more. More, more, more. It puts a new perspective on my house's words, 'Growing Strong'."

Robb stays silent, but it is not as if I was expecting him to say anything. What does one say after such a speech? After all, I was talking about anything but the fountain. The fountain is nothing more than a symbol of greed.

"It does not matter how good we are, Robb," I sigh, shaking my head. "It does not matter what we do, what we say, how kind we are. They will always want more. Even those who have more than they deserve to begin with. All of them, all of them want more."

"I understand what you are saying," he speaks up; this time around, he does not keep his eyes on me. I watch his reflection as he looks at our reflection in the water. But then his eyes glance back at me. "But not everyone is the same, Clara. Wise and kind princes can be born to foolish, tyrant kings. It can be the opposite too; kind, honest men can sire wicked, lying sons. You can't just assume all people are so wrteched. " His words carried perhaps more somber weight than mine, but now the kind man he was, he tried to offset them with a light tone and gentle smile.

"I am not," I tell him. "What I'm saying is… even the good ones want more."

"Again, not all of them."

"You have a point," I say, even if I do not agree with him. It is one of the most valuable things that The Queen of Thorns managed to teach me. At times, it is simply easier to agree and give up. You can try and try, but at the end of the day, you can't make the river run in a different direction. And Robb seems as headstrong as he is kind. "Let's not waste time on serious topics." I suggest, flashing my most charming smile.

"Very well," he agrees, grinning back at me. "Which topics do you suggest?"

"Oh, anything," I chuckle. "Actually, I might have one. I pointed this out to Jon earlier, but when I was with Bran, I got the impression that he might know just a bit too much. He is still a boy, not a man. If I were you, I would advise Theon to keep his mouth shut."

"Oh Gods," Robb sighs and rolls his eyes, not looking too surprised with his friend's behavior. "What did he say now?"

"I might have accused him for no reason at all, but Bran seems to think that you, your brother and Theon all like me well enough. Particularly Theon."

"It wasn't without reason," Robb admits, though I spot the slightest bit of color on his cheeks. "Don't take it to heart, Clara. Please. Theon is… Theon is just like that. He is not the kindest man, but he means no harm. He simply talks, that's all."

"I have no problem with him talking, Robb," I chuckle. "I noticed. In fact, I heard him. I saw him too. I do not have a problem with that, that's easy to ignore. I have a problem with a little boy hearing it. Who knows who could find out? If Bran doesn't know that he knows something he's not supposed to know, he will say it to someone."

"And that someone isn't supposed to know?" Robb raises an eyebrow, only a little confused.

"Exactly," I agree, biting my lip to stop myself from laughing. "Just… tell him to keep his mouth shut."

"I will," he reassures me with a smile. "And I apologize in his stead."

"You should stop apologizing for other people's mistakes, Robb. It's not going to do you any good," I tell him, trying to disguise a true warning in a jest. "Enough about Theon. Are you ready for today's battle?"

"As ready as I will ever be," he shrugs his shoulders. "I am fighting the Red Viper, after all."

"I though the Red Viper and you got along well."

"Well enough, that is true," Robb nods. "Oberyn is a great man. But he's also your friend."

"He is. And yet, I will be rooting for you," I admit, feeling pleased with myself as I watch his smile grow. If I had any doubts, I do not have them anymore. Robb is seriously interested in me. "You have that bracelet on you?"

"It hasn't left my side."

"Good. Keep it," I say. I know we must have a few set of eyes on us, but I don't care. I stand before him and I stand on my toes as I give him a kiss. On the cheek, of course, my lips lingering on his skin for just a second too long. "Good luck."

* * *

I was so sure that I was bringing him luck.

I have never felt more uncomfortable than when I was clapping my hands, congratulating Oberyn on his victory, when all I really wanted was to say to Robb that I was sorry.

It felt wrong. Oberyn is my friend and I should have felt glad that it was he who won. There was no room for that, not when I felt bad for Robb losing. And I don't think it had anything to do with my bracelet.

Unlike Dickon Tarly, Robb was not hiding in his guest chambers after his defeat. No, he was right here, in the hall, drinking and laughing as much as the next man. He acted as if all was well, but when our eyes would meet, making contact from across the hall, which they often did, he would look away instantly. I wondered if he was simply too embarrassed to talk to me, or if perhaps he'd been put off by my close friendship with Oberyn.

"What is the matter with you, love?"

"Leave me be, Oberyn," I sigh. He already knows too much. I see no reason to give him more information. "Is a girl not allowed to have one bad night?"

"Of course she is," he smiles at me, winking. "But bad nights can easily turn good."

"Oberyn, please, leave me be," I beg him. I don't know what I can say or do to make him realize that tonight is not a good night for him to be playing with me, throwing his endless jests my way, especially if the man I'm trying to 'seduce ' might stop perusing me because of it . "I am tired and I am not in a cheerful mood. I don't want us to fight, so please, stop."

"Is it because of the young wolf?" he asks. I want to deny it, but I know all too well just how easily Oberyn can read my face; he would recognize a lie coming out of my mouth from a league away. "Are you angry at me because I defeated him?" he asks.

"Of course I'm not angry with you," I deny, surprised to hear that he would actually suggests something like that. "Gods, it's a stupid tournament! Why is everyone so invested in it, like it's a matter of life and death? Whoever wins will win and they will hold onto a piece of glory until the next tournament comes around, which probably won't take that long to happen!"

"Go and talk to him," he tells me, frowning down at me. "If we keep up with this conversation, you will bite my head off. Go and talk to him. You know him well enough to do so."

He did have a point. After all the time we spent together, no one would think twice if I was to come up to him and have a simple conversation. In fact, I can think of several people in this hall that would probably quietly cheer us on.

I decide to listen to Oberyn, but as soon as I get up and start walking away from my seat, I see Robb making his way outside. If he was alone, I might have followed him, but he was with both Jon and Theon. One of them could be handled; I could simply ask of him to leave us in private. But all three of them together? It was impossible.

It would seem Robb simply doesn't wish to speak to me tonight.

* * *

"Oberyn or Loras?" Willas asks, wearing a wicked grin.

"Loras," Margaery replies, being the admirable sister that she always is.

"Oberyn," I mumble, earning laughter from Willas and a shocked look from our sister. "What? It is not as if I want our brother to fail! I don't. I just think Oberyn has more experience, that's all."

"Or do you think he is indestructible, given that he defeated your sweetheart yesterday?" she asks.

That's the thing about Margaery. I love her dearly, with all my heart. But if you wrong her, she will fight back. And unlike most, she knows how to hit where it hurts the most.

"You look more and more like her with each passing day."

"More like who?" she asks. I imagine she knew very well who I was talking about.

"Ladies, ladies," Willas speaks up, ever the diplomat of the Tyrell siblings. He has been the peacemaker among us ever since we were children. I suppose he should know he's lucky, given that there were not many occasions in which he had to interfere. "The last thing you need is to quarrel because of men, whether they are your kin or not."

"Oh, do shut up, you were the one who asked the damned question!" I snap at him.

"Yes, why start it?" Margaery asks him.

"I give up," he sighs. "I completely and utterly give up."

Even if I had a comment prepared, I would not have time to offer it; Oberyn and Loras entered the pit, both on their horses, wearing their armor and ready to fight.

Of course I was cheering for my brother. Even if it wasn't expected of me, I would cheer for him. As much as I adore Oberyn, blood is blood. And as much as blood is blood, a better warrior is a better warrior. Loras did not have to face many men that were better than he was, but Oberyn… Oberyn was the one who sentenced our older brother to a life of a cripple, even if it was an accident. Loras might be a decent fighter, one of the best even, but Oberyn has years of experience, which he showed yesterday.

I cheer. I jump up when they do. I gasp when Loras falls down. I force another cheer when Oberyn does his victory lap, grinning and waving at the audience. People are clapping and cheering, but he is on the territory of the fallen. Everyone here would have liked to see Loras win, not him.

But I am happy for my friend. Now that he was no longer fighting my brother, or my possible suitor, I am happy for him. I offer him a genuine smile when our eyes meet.

I did not realize the amount of trouble I could be in, not until he received a crown of blue, winter roses. He takes it in his hand and looks around, pretending as if he was looking for the prettiest woman in the crowd.

If Ellaria was here, I know I would live to see another day. If anyone else took that crown, I would never, not for a moment, expect them to offer it to me, when my beautiful, breathtaking sister, was sitting next to me. The only person I knew would give the crown to me was Robb, and I knew it simply because he warned me about it.

It would not cause a scandal, given that it is well known just how much Father dislikes the Martells. No one would expect a possible match between us. It would not be a scandal but it would raise eyebrows. I let my guard down, thinking that Oberyn was a dear friend. I let our friendship cloud my judgment; I completely forgot that Oberyn was someone who enjoyed raising eyebrows of people around him.

"Don't do it," I mumble, silently warning him with my gaze. "Don't do it."

"What are you talking about?" Margaery asks in confusion.

I can see the very moment he decided to go through with it. He chuckles for a moment, as if he laughing at a joke that only he can understand. Then, he grins and starts riding our way.

Everyone expects the crown to go to Margaery; everyone was positive that will happen as soon as he started riding in our direction. I think I was the only one who knew it would end up in my lap. Well, Willas and Margaery might have had a similar feeling.

When the crown of roses falls onto my lap, I look down at it.

It was supposed to mean something. I was supposed to get it from Robb, as a sign, both to myself and the rest of the world that he is planning of asking for my hand in marriage. And I would keep it. Just as I would tell him to keep my bracelet for good.

Now, they were just flowers. A bunch of flowers that meant nothing.

But I am a Tyrell. I had a reputation to preserve.

I smile up at Oberyn, thanking him with a nod of my head. I'll kill him for this. I will torture him first and then I will kill him. I smile as the crowd cheers and Margaery is the one who puts the crown on my head.

* * *

I have been looking for him for hours. I could not move from the hall, no matter how much I wanted to. I was the Queen of Love and Beauty. What kind of Queen would I be if I was to leave the feast so early on? No, I couldn't move. I can only search for him with my eyes and they haven't been successful. If Robb was in the hall, he had mad ran effort to remain very well hidden.

"I haven't seen him either," Willas speaks up and starts laughing when I frown at him. "Clara, you are my little sister. I know how you breathe. I know exactly who you have been looking for since we entered the hall and I haven't seen him either."

"Where could he go?" I sigh, deciding it was useless to pretend as if Willas was wrong with his assumptions. He said it himself; he knows me.

"I don't think he was here to begin with," he tells me. "Go. Look for him. I will watch your back."

"How?"

"Simple. You had one glass too many and went to your chambers. You shall return if you feel better."

"When did you become such a good liar?"

"Oh, I always was," he chuckles. "I just never lied to you. Go!" he urges me and I make my escape, before either one of us could change our minds.

I realize how stupid I am as soon as I ended up in the hallway; where am I to go now? Do I go to his chambers? That would be my first guess when it comes to his location, but how smart would that be? It is one thing for someone to see us walking and talking, even exchanging a kiss or two on the cheek. Seeing me sneaking away from a feast and into his chambers? That would cause a scandal that would end us.

But where else could he be?

"My lady," I turn around to see Jon walking my way.

"Oh good," I sigh, smiling at the man. "I am in need of rescue."

"What is the matter?" he asks, frowning at me.

"I cannot find your brother. Do you know where he is?"

"I'm afraid not, my lady," he shakes his head. "I thought he was in the great hall."

"Well, he isn't," I sigh. On instinct, I make a move to move the hair away from my face, which is something I do often if my hair is not pulled back; in doing so now, I am met with the crown of flowers, the petals soft against my fingertips. The stupid, bloody crown. In a moment of pure rage, I take the crown off and I throw it at the wall, making the flower petals fall all on the floor. If it wasn't for the stupid crown, I would not be in this position.

"My lady, are you alright?" Jon asks, and when I look at him, I see him looking down at the crown before my feet. I fight the urge to stomp on the petals.

"No, I'm not," I respond honestly. "But I'm afraid you can't help me in any way."

"I am sorry, my lady."

"Oh, Gods, will you please just call me by my name?" I snap, directing all of my anger Jon's way. "I have asked you several times now. I do not like being called by my title. I know you well enough now. Please, do not do that. Please."

"I am sorry, Clara."

"What for?" I ask. For not helping me? How can he do so, if he does not know where Robb is.

"For acting the way I did earlier today," he explains. "It was not proper."

"It was not proper?" I ask, my confusion only growing.

"No," Jon shakes his head. "You are a lady of a great house. It was not my place to…"

"To what?" I burst out. Now, my anger is directed toward him for all the right reasons. "Drop the "it is not proper" act, Jon. I am not some delicate little rose, as the world might have you believe. I didn't care either way about your actions. I have been nice to you from the moment I met you. I never did you wrong and yet you return the favor by treating me as dog shit; something you do not really notice until it sticks to you. What, are you surprised a lady would say such a bad word? Shit?" I ask, annoyed when I see his eyes go wide. "I am no older than you, Jon and I am not smarter, but I can teach you a thing or two. For one, do not apologize to someone if you do not know what you are apologizing for to begin with."

I am done with him. I have nothing else to say. I played nice and I tried to approach him. As soon as I would see us taking one step forward, the next day, we would be two steps back. He is Robb's brother and as much as I would love for the two of us to get along well, I am done with being the one to actually give any effort. Robb is my possible match, not Jon. Robb is the one I should get along well with, not his brother. As irony would have it, we were on the best of terms that first night, before we had spoken a true word to one another, when our eyes met.

"You do not appreciate my company and that is quite alright. I shall not subject you to it any longer. If you see your brother, tell him I was looking for him." I mumble, picking up the floral crown from the ground.

Even in a moment of rage, I am still a perfect little Tyrell. A perfect little Tyrell would have their moment, tore up the crown and then pick it up, to make sure no one sees the evidence of their unladylike actions.

* * *

 **Clara: Hoe, don't do it!  
Oberyn: *does it* **


	10. Chapter 10

**Here we go guys, here's another one. It's a big one, too!**

 **I hope you like it! Let me know what you think, you know how much it means to me.**

 **Big thank you to darkwolf76, my wonderful beta and advisor!**

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 **I hope you love it! :)**

* * *

"The Red Viper, huh?" she asks, staring me down.

I thought I was ready for her attack. I should be used to it by now. Surprisingly, I'm not.

"You do know that I did not ask for that crown?" I ask.

"I know," Olenna Tyrell confirms, but the suspicion in her eyes didn't leave her. "I also happen to know that you are far from daft."

"I did not have an aim, grandmother," I tell her. "Oberyn did it on his own accord."

"Yes, just as I have stumbled upon your grandfather's bedchambers by complete accident."

"Grandmother, I beg of you," I mumble, looking down at the ground. "I do _not_ need to hear that."

"Yes, you do," she disagrees. "Clara, open your eyes. You will not get what you want if you don't make an effort!"

"I don't want Oberyn, Grandmother!" I snap. The last thing I want to do is to yell at her, but she will not stop pushing me towards the edge. I'm still holding my ground, but she is one push away from sending me over the edge of a cliff, just like how grandfather died. "Why would I make an effort to get something I do not even want? He is my friend! The only reason he threw the crown at me was because he knew very well I would be annoyed by it! He enjoys teasing me, nothing more than that! I do not want him!"

"Then who do you want?" she leans over the table between us, as if to challenge me.

"No one," I say, leaning over as well, meeting her challenge head on. "No one, Grandmother."

"You might be smart, but you cannot lie for the life of you," she shakes her head in consternation. "If it is the Stark boy that you want, if you want him out of all the possibilities, than grab a hold of him and don't let go!"

"I am not grabbing anything, Grandmother," I manage to mumble. "You said it yourself. All of them want me, none of them want to marry me. Why pretend now?"

"Because if I made your Grandfather forget about my sister and ask for my hand in marriage, I know you can do the same with the Stark boy."

Receiving lessons in seduction from one of my closest friends had been challenging on its own, as well as ridiculous. Receiving lessons in seduction from my very old Grandmother was something I didn't believe I would ever have to deal with. That is, until now.

"Correct me if I am mistaken, but are you actually suggesting that I should have him bed me while he is here? Seize the opportunity? Take advantage of him? Compel him to act on his honor? Force him into a marriage, a price he would have to pay for one night of passion? Or am I mistaken?"

"Say it as you will," she shakes her head. "I am simply trying to help you."

"Your suggestions have been nothing but wonderful so far. " My voice drops with sarcasm.

"Perhaps they will be more successful than your foolish tactics?" she asks, adding insult to injury. "What you are trying to do… it is so very charming and beautiful. You want to get to his heart, to make him fall in love with you. My dearest Clara, the time has come for you to learn that a way to a man's heart is only through his bed."

"I do not want to do it your way," I tell her. I don't even have to think about it. I am not going to crawl into Robb Stark's bed, trusting his honor would shame him into marrying me the morning after. "I am not doing anything in any way. I do not want my marriage, whenever it happens, to start like that."

"Very well," Grandmother sighs, looking away from me. "But when the day comes, do not say that I did not warn you. If the Stark boy does not ask for your hand in marriage by the end of this ridiculous tournament, I will take care of your betrothal myself. And I can assure you, you will not fancy the man of my choosing, not as much as you fancy the Stark boy." She warns me.

"Why are you in such a rush?" I ask, feeling disgusted. "Would the whole world freeze offer if I am not married by my 20th nameday? Is my marriage truly such a valuable asset?"

"Yes."

Realizing that she will not say anything else, I stand up and fix my dress.

"Very well then," I tell her. "If he does not ask for my hand in marriage, you are free to do as you please. I am well aware that you do not need my permission, but do not be mistaken, Grandmother. I will remember this. If you sentence me to a man I do not want, I will remember that too. I may be a Tyrell, I may be your blood, but a thorn is a thorn, even if it is golden."

* * *

"Oh Clara, what did you expect?" Margaery asks me. I frown, watching her putting up dresses in front of her and seeing how they look on her, whilst staring at her reflection in the mirror. "You know how sharp her tongue is. You have been meddling with her nerves for days now."

" _I_ have been meddling with _her_ nerves?" I gasp. "Did you even listen to what I said? She is the one who has been pushing me, Margaery."

"I am sure that is how it feels for you." she tells me, looking away from her reflection to give me a compassionate smile.

"Does it even matter how it feels for anyone else?" I ask. "After all, it is my marriage."

"Perhaps she has a point." Margaery shrugs.

"Are you actually saying that you agree with her ridiculous suggestion?" I ask, wide eyed.

"No, not like that," she defends herself. "Perhaps a clearer sign to him would be a good action."

"What are you suggesting now?"

"Did it ever cross your mind that perhaps you should simply tell him the truth?" she asks me. I keep my mouth shut, expecting her to start laughing and say she was joking. She doesn't. "He seems reasonable enough. He is of noble birth, he must be going through the same thing you are."

"Oh yes, Lord Eddard did not stop pushing him my way ever since they got here," I retort bitterly.

"Clara," Margaery rolls her eyes. "I mean it. If you get along as well as you do, tell him the truth. "

"Alright," I sit up, leaning myself on the headboard of her bed, watching as she grabs another dress; this one is red. I don't think I've ever seen her in red. "What do you suggest I do? Oh, well hello there, Robb. Such a fine morning, isn't it? Did you enjoy the night's festivities? Oh, good, you did! Good, good, you'd better get used to it, because my entire family wants you to ask for my hand in marriage, and if the Tyrells are planning a wedding feast, you can be certain that it will be grand."

"Not like that," she rolls her eyes, yet again. "Perhaps something a bit less obvious, yes? Tell him the truth. Tell him that your family is looking for setting up a match for you."

"Marg, I'm pretty sure he already knows that." I sigh. Doesn't the entire world?!

"Make it clearer, then. Men always think there is time. More time for them to travel, more time for them to meet more beautiful girls. If you tell him that there is no time, he might just realize that the time has come for him to ask the question you want him to ask?"

"Or, perhaps, he will think nothing of it?" I suggest. "Based on what evidence did we come to the conclusion that he would want to marry me? I am certain he likes me well enough, but a harmless flirtation and a few smiles here and there are hardly a strong foundation for a marriage to be built on."

"Clara, if you are going to keep looking for a wrong in every right, I can't help you! " Margaery pouts.

"I have a suggestion!" I snap, forcing a smile. "Why don't you marry Robb Stark, and I will die alone, all lonely and wrinkly?"

"Darling, you know he will never be a King." She tells me, smiling kindly.

"Do you truly want a crown that much?" I ask. She has never bothered with keeping it a secret, but I never realized she would decline an offer from a large and important House, just because they do not have a crown. Somewhere along the way, as I was being miserable about my uncertain future, my younger sister decided she would become a Queen.

When Margaery decides something, there is no stopping her. I think that might be the only thing I envy about her. Her resolve is truly unbreakable. I have never met someone with more patience. Me? I'm too hot headed for my own good. I can be patient when I need to, but Margaery is a natural.

Perhaps it would be a good idea for her to be a Queen. After all, I'd rather see my sister in that position than someone else.

"I do," she confirms. "And I will get it."

"Well, I wish I had as much confidence with my issues," I say, sliding down the headboard and onto her bed, making my sister laugh. "I just… I don't want to do this. I like him, I can feel it. I like him. He is nice and smart; he's very easy on the eyes… I am not against it, nor would I be if he was to make it official. But it's one thing to silently hope for something and another to force him to it."

"Maybe you should listen to Grandmother, but only to a certain extent."

"I have no idea what you are trying to say."

"Well, getting into his bed would be a bit extreme, wouldn't it?" she asks.

"Yes, I think it would."

Are they insane? Did they forget that we are a noble family? If I get into his bed, I will give him the only thing that makes me an eligible bride! Well, my family's wealth helps, but me being a maiden makes me a… prize, I suppose. I cringe in slight digust at the notion.

"Well, why not do it half way?" she asks me. "Don't get into his bed, but don't stay silent either. If you keep it up this way, you'll get nowhere. Why not kiss him?"

"Kiss him?" I ask, fairly certain I didn't mishear it.

"Yes," she shrugs. "A kiss will not make you any less a maiden. And it might make the wheels in his head turn a bit faster. Clara, you do not have time to act like a proper little lady. The tournament will be over in days and if he does not invite you to visit Winterfell as soon as possible, you can forget about that match. You do not have enough time to let him figure things out at his own speed. You need to guide him if you want him to do what you want. You are not some quiet and shy little girl. You are a woman grown, smart and brave at that. Act like a woman that you are."

Margaery's words aren't much different than Olenna's, but unlike our Grandmother, Margaery chose them carefully. Seeing it from her point of view, well… perhaps my grandmother has a point.

* * *

"I once spent 13 nights and 14 days in a brothel." Tyrion states. I think, narrowing my eyes.

"That has to be the truth."

"Drink up, my lady," he laughs. I take a deep breath, lifting the cup up to my lips; I am on my second cup and judging by the way this game of Tyrion's is going, there are many more of them. "It was 12 nights and 13 days."

"You are not playing fair, my lord," I laugh. "Anyone would have believed in that statement."

"Anyone who knows me well enough," he adds. "Alright. Let's change it up. I say a statement about you and if I am right, I drink?" he suggests.

"And if you are wrong?"

"If I am wrong… I drink."

I will never understand how someone can't adore this man. Whether he is drunk or sober, he can make anything fun. Tonight would be just another night in a row, if I didn't have him to brighten everything up. Seeing how down I have felt over the last two days, I needed some fun to lighten my heavy thoughts.

"Anything to help you get drunk, my lord." I smile at him.

"Ah, that is why I like you as much as I do, Lady Clara," he laughs. "Alright. You have fallen in love with Robb Stark."

I am not even surprised.

"Drink up, my lord." I urge him.

"But is it the truth or not?"

"Do you drink if the answer is uncertain?" I ask, making him laugh. "I don't know anything anymore, my lord. My family wants me to… it is too complicated. The shortened version is that my wishes and my opinions are sometimes different from the ones my family has. And unfortunately, I am a Tyrell first and Clara second."

"My lady, admittedly, I do not know much about charming young lords," he starts, making me laugh at once. All I need is to imagine Tyrion trying to charm Robb and I could die from laughter. "But, I do know how men think, seeing that I am a man myself and that I have spent many day surrounded by them. Men are… stupid, my lady. Even the smart ones are stupid, especially when it comes to women. I did not have a chance to speak to young Lord Stark much, but I did see enough. He's one of those honorable types, like his father, so he will not know what you feel until you say it to him. Just as he will not know what your family wants, not unless you hint it to him."

"Well, at least you are not suggesting I should get into his bed." I mumble, without thinking. The moment those words leave my mouth, I want to pull them back in, but it is already too late.

"Well… that would probably be very effective," Tyrion responds and I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing. "Effective, but unnecessary. I would suggest a more… modest approach."

"Modest?" I ask, watching as he nods his head whilst drinking from his cup. "Very well. Modest and honest?"

"Yes."

"Alright then. If I may be excused," I announce as I jump on my feet. Without giving in a second thought, I start walking towards the Stark table; they are always seated at the very same place. I don't give myself time to contemplate, knowing too well that I would manage to convince myself not to do it. If I have time to think, I will stop myself. And I need to do this. I need to, if I don't want to marry some old man twice my age.

If I am going to do this properly, I must pay attention to details. I was so wrapped up into Oberyn's 'lessons', I didn't even stop to consider other possible problems. He and I can love each other all the way to the stars and back, but if our families do not want us to be married, we will not be married. Now, my family might be looking forward to the day when they get to toss me into other arms, but I am fairly certain that Lord Stark does not harbor such wishes for his son.

If the words of his honor are true, and with what little I've seen of him, they seem to be, I doubt he would find joy in pushing his son into a marriage he didn't want.

Robb's not the only one I have to impress.

"Lord Stark," I smile as I approach. It may not mean much, but at least he greets me with a smile whenever he sees me. "How are you tonight? And where is little Lord Bran?" I ask, noticing that the boy was nowhere to be found. "He's not climbing any walls now, is he?"

"I hope not, Lady Clara," he chuckles. "I am doing very well, thank you. House Tyrell never fails when it comes to organizing lavish feasts. And how are you tonight?"

"I've known better days, I am afraid," I answer honestly, but I also offer him a smile. "As enjoyable as this tournament is, all the festivities have started to tire me a great deal. My feet hurt from all the dancing." I joke.

"Well, why don't you sit with us?" he suggests. "I'm sure my boys would agree."

Well, that is an understatement. Theon, Jon and Robb all mumble something in agreement, none of them giving me as much as a glance. Theon must be having a bad night, and after the conversation from two nights ago, I can understand Jon's reluctance. After all, I wasn't exactly nice. Robb not making eye contact is what hurts the most. And with the fact that it actually troubles me… I know am in too deep already.

"Thank you for the invitation, my Lord, but I was wondering if it would be possible for me to steal Robb from you, only for a little while?" I ask, careful not to look Robb's way; still, I notice him looking up in surprise. I watch Lord Eddard, not him. And when Lord Eddard smiles right away, the moment I stop talking, the smallest spark of hope springs in my breast. He likes me well enough, perhaps enough for his son.

"By all means, as long as you return him." he jokes.

"Ah, my plan is ruined," I pretend to be hurt, making Lord Eddard laugh. No one else even looks at us. "I will return him soon, you have my word."

"Shall we then?" Robb asks, all cordial but cold at the same time, as he stands up, looking at the table in front of him and not at me. I force a smile, even if no one was watching. He waits for me by the end of the table, offering a stiff arm. I link our arms and we start walking at once.

"For a moment, I thought you were avoiding me," I whisper, careful to not let anyone else hear us. "Now I am certain that you are avoiding me."

"I'm not, my Lady."

"Ah, so I'm a lady again," I notice. It is worse than I thought. "What happened to Clara?" I ask.

To my surprise, he does not respond. When he would speak, he wouldn't reveal much, but at least he would say something. Now, as we walk out into the hallway and he still doesn't say a word, I am starting to think that perhaps he and Jon are more alike than I first thought.

"Robb, tell me what is the matter," I sigh, finally drawing a look from him. "Your behavior is different. While I would never assume that I would be of such importance, you only act differently around me. Have I done something wrong?" I ask.

I didn't think about that, not until now. I thought he was hiding from me simply because he was embarrassed by his defeat, but Robb does not seem like the kind of man who would hide in shame. Perhaps I have done something to wrong him, without being aware of that. Jon could have told him the way I treated him the other night. That incident did not help my newfound, blossoming friendship with Robb's brother. Or perhaps he too had seen Oberyn's _gift_ to me as more than it actually was.

"No, Clara, you did nothing wrong," he reassures me halfheartedly. "It is… I cannot talk about it here, someone could overhear us."

"Don't be silly," I tell him, opening the door to the balcony we were passing. I lead us outside. "Here. It is private enough for us to have a conversation without anyone eavesdropping, and public enough to not stir rumors. Good enough?"

"Clara, I…" he starts. As much as I want to interrupt him, I stay silent. I know how difficult it is to find the right words. "I was avoiding you." he finally admits.

"I've figured as much," I raise an eyebrow at him. "Now, why? Why would you do that?"

"Because I really wanted to be the one to give you that damned crown!" he snaps, confirming my earlier suspicions. "I didn't realize how much I wanted it until I saw Oberyn throwing it into your lap."

"Robb, it is a stupid bunch of flowers that will wither and fade and soon be forgotten," I tell him, keeping my voice calm. "I can't even begin to explain how little it means to me. If you were the one who gave it…" I pause for a moment, letting out a deep breath before I take the plunge. "It would have meant more and I would have kept it. But with Oberyn? It means nothing. It is just a stupid crown, from a stupid tournament. I didn't even keep it a day."

"But it does mean more than that," he looks away from me again. "You know what it means when man gives a maiden that crown."

"Yes. But with Oberyn, it meant _nothing_ " I emphasize again. He sighs in annoyance; he seems to be annoyed by me not seeing things his way, so I decide to push on. "Robb, I am going to be honest with you. You are no idiot. Neither am I, nor our two families. My family plans to marry me off for an alliance. That is the way life goes. I have been warned that I do not have much time. Despite my opinion, they wish to have me betrothed by the end of this tournament, or at the very least, to begin a conversation of a possible betrothal." I tell him.

"I thought as much." he tells me. I'm not sure what I was expecting to hear, but… I had expected more enthusiasm than that. I would have been more surprised with him laughing.

"It is not fair," I speak up, realizing he was not going to say anything else. "I do not like it. If I could, I would change it, this very instant. But they are the ones who make the decisions. And as much as I would like for it to be different, I must respect those decisions. Whoever they chose, he will be my husband, from the day we marry until death pulls us apart."

How do you tell someone that you are interested in marrying them? I barely know him. Yes, what I do know, I like, very much. But there are so many things I do not know about him, most of them I could never even know, not unless we end up being married. Which side of the bed does he sleep on? What is his favorite food? Does he talk in his sleep? What is his favorite memory? If he could choose his own life and not have his family choose it for him, who would he be? Who would he be and where would he live? What would he do and who would he call his friend? Does he even want to be married? Does he even like me? What does he like about me? Does he like the idea of me being his wife?

So many questions, so few answers. Even if I had the courage to ask, he probably wouldn't have the courage to answer, and I could never blame him for that.

"Father spoke to me about it," he finally speaks up. And finally, he makes eye contact with me. His blue eyes aren't filled with joy, unfortunately. "He noticed and…"

"And?" I ask, knowing that I need to find out how this sentence ends.

"And he wanted to know my opinion," he tells me. "It is always the family of the husband who initiates talks, isn't it?"

"Actually, it's not," I smile, shaking my head. "Some families offer up their daughters on silver platters, but my family is too proud for that. Golden roses are not served for wolves, stags, krakens and lions to eat. They must be sought out and picked. As much as they might wish to get rid of me, they would never offer me like that. Their pride would never allow them. I'm afraid that my husband's family will have to do all the work." I say.

"Well, my father would be willing to do such work," he tells me. I manage to hold back a smile. I do not want to scare him away with it, but I want to smile so badly. "If we are to think like lord and lady, an alliance between House Stark and House Tyrell would be a good choice, " he concedes. "We have not had marriage alliances in the past. There might be quite the distance between our lands, but we would strengthen the existing, week alliance. We would strengthen our ties with the South and you would strengthen your ties with the North."

"No, we would build them," I shake my head. "There are no ties at the moment, Robb. The only tie between your house and mine is that we have never been directly at war against one another. Well, we have, once, but we were both fighting for other rulers."

"Even better," he nods his head. "Logistically… it makes perfect sense." He tells me.

"Why do I have a feeling that there is a 'but' coming my way?"

"But," he starts. Of course. "My father wants to hear my say. Unlike your family, Father plans to honor my opinion, if possible."

"And you are not interested."

If he is not going to say it, the least I can do is say it for him. I can't really blame him. It was fun. I liked it. I liked playing the little game we played. I liked playing the game with Oberyn, learning how men work and how they truly are much simpler than women. I thought he was my best option, but… he doesn't think the same way. And that is alright, I try to tell myself, though there is a tiny part of me that feels hurt.

But what was I expecting, after all? I have been next to Margery nearly the whole time.

"No!" he jumps up, looking slightly terrified. "No, Gods. Clara, no, it's not that!"

"So… you are interested?" I ask in confusion.

"Yes, of course I am," he tells me. The way he is saying it, his tone, he almost sounds surprised, surprised at me even questioning it. I imagine that Robb Stark cannot even begin to understand how insecure I actually am. "I am interested. I thought that was obvious."

"It wasn't."

"Well, I will do my best to correct that mistake," he smiles at me, but the smile disappears as fast as it had appeared. "The problem is… it is one thing to be interested and another one to marry."

"I understand that, Robb," I tell him. "I might understand that even better than you do. See, your father plans to take your opinion into consideration. My family will not do that. I am getting married either way, and soon," I tell him. As much as I am trying to make it sound different, it truly does sound as if I am telling him that if he doesn't choose me, I'll go for someone else. Even though that isn't the case at all. My _grandmother_ will _find_ someone else. "Ever since I was old enough to marry, I have been preparing myself for the possibility of marrying someone I barely even know. I have accepted that. I hate it, I truly do, but I have accepted it nonetheless. It isn't something I can change. I'm… I'm going to be too honest for my own good now, but… I like you, Robb. If I compared you with all the other options I have, I would gladly choose you over all of them. Why? Because I know you. I do not know you enough, not nearly enough as I would like, but compared to everyone else? I know you would treat me well. I know I would not cry myself to sleep every night. It may not sound like much, but to a woman, that means a lot. I have seen many, many marriages like that. That is my biggest fear. And with you, that biggest fear of mine… it would never come true. I know that. To me, that is enough. But like I said, I do not have a say. You do. So… I suppose I understand why that is not enough for you."

I can see it on his face. He didn't expect to hear the things he did. I don't think he ever expected to have this kind of conversation, at least not with me. In all honesty, I never thought that a day would come when I would say all these things to a man I wanted as a husband. It doesn't feel comfortable, but he needs to hear this. He needs to know that if I had a choice, he would be my choice. Not because of land or his name. Simply because I think he is a good man. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Clara, don't think I don't want to marry you."

"I'm trying, but it sure does sound like that," I mumble, trying my hardest to hide utter disappointment. I might pretend, but I am not as good as my sister is. As hard as I try, I am sure he is able to see my hurt. "I suppose it doesn't matter. I will… like I said, I will be married off either way. Do not think I will hold anything against you. Seven hells, if I were you, even I would look for a better option," I laugh, feeling my chest slowly rising in panic. I need to get away from here, right now. "You should go back to the feast. I have to retire for the night."

I turn around and as I start walking away, he pulls me by the hand. His pull isn't gentle; my entire body falls against his, chest to chest, nose to nose. I look up at him, staring at those blue eyes of his. I don't even have a chance to move before he kisses me.

I have been kissed before. Oberyn held the honor as my first, having kissed me every single time we greet or say good bye to each other. But that had been just the tiniest brush of lips. Nothing more than that. And it meant nothing, not to either one of us.

This is something different. Robb's lips aren't as harsh as Oberyn's. His movements are not casual, not at all. I may have barley anything to compare this kiss to, but I am fairly certain that this kiss means something.

He just… he takes over me. With each passing second, I feel my body relax and I know I am starting to lose control over my movements as my fingers grip at his shoulder and a hand slips to his back. I don't even care for the open door, or the fact that anyone could pass by and see us like this. It could end us, but I don't care. I simply don't care.

He is the one who pulls away and I feel relief when I notice him having difficulty breathing; I'm not the only one. His hands are still on my waist and I watch in surprise as a smile grows on his face.

"Father will speak to your family," he tells me. "I will tell him to do so. He will ask on my behalf for your hand in marriage. And if for whatever reason they decide not to agree, you will always be the first woman I have ever kissed. Good night, Clara," he smiles at me, brighter than the Dornish sun, before walking away, leaving me alone on the balcony.

It takes me a moment to realize what happened.

He just kissed me. He wants to marry me. Seven hells, he probably will marry me!

This is what I wanted. I told him as much. Out of all the options I have, he is the one _I_ want. He is the one my family would not throw me to; him, I would choose. I might not be madly in love with him, but as I pointed out, I am still getting to know him. People do not always fall madly in love with one another. I like him. I smile when I think of him. I blush when he compliments me. Since I lack experience when it comes to love, for all I know, I might be madly in love with him, but I didn't realize it just yet. And even if I'm not, if we like each other so much now, who is to say we won't fall in love with more time?

I would be happy if he is the one I wake up next to. I would be happy to become a part of his family; the members I have met have been more than lovely. Even our children would have a strong chance of being quite handsome.

It worked. I don't know if it was Oberyn's advice or simple honesty, but it had worked.

"Clara?" I hear a voice and when I snap out of my daze, I see Loras standing next to me.

"Hey." I smile at him.

Loras's eyes are often full of judgment. I know he means nothing by it, but when he frowns at me in such a way, I can't help but feel annoyed. This time, it didn't even bother me, however.

"Why are you smiling like that?" he asks me.

"Am I?" I ask, touching my face. I am. I have a wide smile and I have a feeling it has been plastered on my face since Robb walked away. No, it must have been there since the kiss. It must have been. "Oh. Well, I suppose I am happy."

"Clara, am I missing something?" Loras laughs. "What could be so funny about standing alone on the balcony?" he asks, teasing me, as always.

"Not much," I shake my head, but I feel the smile. It's starting to hurt me now. "Not much, I promise."

"Clara…" he tells me in a warning tone. I start laughing.

"Loras, I think I'm getting married."

* * *

 **See you soon, guys.**

 **By the way, it still isn't over :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Here we go guys, here's a new one! Expect the next one soon! Wow, 11 chapters in and almost 200 followers. I AM SO HAPPY!**

 **I hope you like this and if you do (and if you don't), let me know what you think.**

 **Huge THANK YOU to my great beat, darkwolf76 :)**

 **I hope you enjoy the chapter! See ya soon! :)**

* * *

"Lady Clara, what will you do with your life once all of this is over tomorrow and Highgarden is robbed of my illustrious presence?"

"Oh, Ser Jaime," I chuckle as he twirls us around, one more time. "I do not know how my heart will ever heal." I sigh, feigning hurt. "I hope you enjoyed your stay here, at the very least. I did my best to be a good hostess and I can say the same for my family."

"Lady Clara, I enjoyed the stay very much," he reassures me with a charming grin. "You Tyrells should be notorious for your love of celebration and the way you treat your guests."

"Give it time, Ser Jaime, I'm sure we will be," I laugh, feeling proud of my family. At times, it truly was annoying, but we had pulled off a truly grand event the whole of Westeros will speak about in the weeks, if not even months to come. That is, until an even grander event takes place. "Please, visit us again. You will always be welcome here, at least as long as I am here," I say politely.

"Ah, but you will not be here for long, will you, Lady Clara?" he smiles, raising his eyebrows in interest, and spins us in a different direction.

"Do not dwell on rumors, Ser Jaime," I bite back, making him laugh. "I know I don't."

We all have pretended as if it was a secret, but it was not. Lord Eddard has not spoken a single word to me, but I know Robb has told him. Grandmother hasn't spoken much either, but even when she has, the talk of my possible marriage has not been brought up. For the moment, we are all pretending as if nothing has changed, but it has. Oh, it has.

It was… a well-known secret. My siblings know and I imagine Robb's family knows as well. My friends close and not so close alike, know. Oberyn knows the story like the back of his hand, Tyrion has read me like an open book and it would appear that even Jaime knows what I am trying to hide.

In the effort to leave a good impression on Robb, I didn't try hard to conceal our potential betrothal.

"Rumors or not, I have a feeling that the next time we meet, it will not be at Highgarden."

"Let us hope that such a place can be equally entertaining," I smile at him. "Ser Jamie, as I have said before, you should dance more often."

"I will take you up on that offer tomorrow night," he promises. "Now, I think there's another waiting for your hand." he tells me, turning me around so that I can see Oberyn, standing behind us, ready to cut in.

"Thank you, Ser Jaime," I nod my head. He walks away and I find Oberyn's arm around my waist before I can take another step. "My dearest Oberyn. What will you do now, without me? Will your life ever be the same?" I tease him. It's only fair, given how much fun he's had at my expense ever since he had arrived here.

"I will have to manage," he sighs, pretending to be saddened by it. "And you? How will you fair without me? Especially when you go to the drab North, to join your pretty wolf boy."

"Hush now," I warn him. "Nothing is official. Not yet, that is." I add, my cheeks flushing.

It was as if I was trying to reassure myself, not him. I know it is going to happen, but until the moment that it does, until the moment that it is announced, I cannot get my hopes up.

Alliances shift and betrothals are broken all the time among noble houses, always seeking the path to the most power possible. It all will be up in the air, until the day Robb and I marry. Even with an official betrothal, our houses' ties won't be certain until we are bound by marriage. As much as I am trying not to get my hopes up, to not hope for this all to come true, I cannot stop myself. I want it. I want that certainty, happiness, and peace that I believe Robb could provide me.

Margaery wants a crown. Loras wants glory. Willas? Not even Willas himself knows what he wants. As someone who is close to him, I believe he simply wants a happy life and a peaceful reign when he takes Father's place as Lord of Highgarden. As for me, I only want a normal, peaceful life. I do not want power. I do not need it. Endless amounts of coins and riches? I do not need that either. I have had that my whole life as the daughter of one of the wealthiest families in Westeros. Mad and passionate love? I'll admit, I would like it, but I can live without it. I just want to live in peace, for my biggest worry to be if my children are fighting and if we are going to have boar or deer for supper.

"It will be official, soon enough," Oberyn assures me, sounding as if he has had conversations with my dear grandmother and Lord Stark alike. "You will go North with the wolf boy. Into the gray, rugged, frozen North, wondering what it would have been like to have gone to bright, beautiful, sunny Dorne, like I wanted you too."

"I already know what it would be like," I smile up at him. "I will probably be freezing and I believe I will catch myself cursing the day I made such a decision. But at least my skin won't burn and my husband will not love another. That is a curse I would not wish for my worst enemy."

"You'd better keep him close then, my love," Oberyn chuckles. "Even good men have their moments."

"I'm sure they do." I mumble, choosing not to pay too much attention to the remark. Why should I worry about Robb's possible infidelity before we are even promised to one another? I would be a mad woman if I did such a thing. And I would ruin my marriage before it even began.

"Ah, you would have had so much fun with Ellaria and me," he sighs with a wistful smile, sounding as if he is saddened that will never happen. "Such a shame, you will never get to experience that."

"Oh Oberyn, I will still visit. I promise," I say, hoping that I will have a chance to do so. I must not forget, Dorne is very far from Highgarden, let alone North. If I end up going North, and settle down there I might never travel so far South again. "I will write you. Besides, this is not goodbye yet. We still have tomorrow night."

"We do," he agrees, nodding his head. As we turn around, I find myself looking at the Stark table again. Robb is nowhere to be found and neither is his father. In fact, the only Stark sitting at the table isn't a Stark at all. It is Jon Snow. "Oh, who are you eyeing now?" Oberyn asks me, chuckling.

"Oberyn, would you excuse me?" I ask him. "I have to go have a conversation that is long overdue."

"Run along, my love," he tells me, speaking in his seductive voice. "But be careful. They might be as stupid as your average men, but they are also direwolves."

"What do you mean by that?" I ask in confusion as we stop dancing.

"Pack mentality, my love," he smirks. "Best hope they do not share their prey."

"I'm not the prey, Oberyn. I will never be the prey." I promise him, before I turn around and walk away, making my way through the dancing couples, trying to avoid getting hit by spinning couples.

Jon looks up just as I open my mouth to speak. Almost instantly, he looks down.

"Good evening, Jon," I smile at him, even if he isn't paying any attention. "Do you mind if I sit down?"

"Of course not, my lady."

I can't antagonize him again, not if I want to make peace. Taking a deep breath, I sit down, taking the seat right across from his. I wait for him to speak. And I wait some more.

"My lady, if I may be excused." He says, rushing to stand up.

"Jon, please," I sigh, knowing I have waited long enough. "Please, wait," I mumble, feeling relief when he actually stops and sits back down again. "I am well aware that I am not in a position to ask anything from you, but I will do it nonetheless. Forgive me for it, but I must ask. I want to know if you would be willing to accept my apology." I blurt out, speaking far too fast, afraid that if I don't speak quickly, I'll second guess myself and not speak at.

"An apology for what?" he asks, finally looking up at me.

"I have not treated you well, Jon," I admit. It is not an easy thing to say, even if I know how true it is. "I tried to. And I thought I did. For a while, I did. At least I think so. But then, I ended up taking my bad moods out of you, which was not something that should have happened. I am sorry for that, I truly am. You did not deserve it. Granted, I did not get an impression that you enjoyed my company very much, but that is no excuse for the way I have been treating you. So, I want to apologize and ask you if we can… have a fresh start, perhaps. Start over, as if nothing has happened?" I suggest.

If I am to marry Robb, Jon will be a part of my family. It is not necessary for us to be the best of friends, but a mutual respect between the two of us might be very helpful. Us becoming family aside, I do not want to burn any bridges. I was mistaken and I did him wrong.

"There is no need for apologies, my lady," he shakes his head, staring me down with eyes that are so grey, I could almost call them black. "I have been… impolite towards you as well. If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me."

I should have known he would say something like this, taking the blame himself. Despite his sometimes cold attitude towards me, he is a Stark, if not by name, then by blood. The Starks and their damned honor.

"Alright," I nod, offering him a smile and my right hand. "Let us do it this way. No apologies. No titles. We start over. My name is Clara. It is nice to meet you, Jon."

I thought he would accept it in an instant. When a few seconds pass and he is still staring at my hand, I start to wonder if this was a mistake after all.

"It's nice to meet you, Clara." he smiles, finally grasping my hand. Gods be good, he _can_ smile!

"Well, this is a weight off my shoulders," I huff, grinning at him. That grin only grows when he starts laughing. "I am glad we settled this. The way I acted before, I can assure you, it will not happen again."

"Worry not," he shakes his head. "After all, we are going to be family. Conflicts happen in families."

"Oh," I mumble, surprised at his statement. But should I be surprised? No, I should have seen this one coming. "Robb told you?" I ask.

"Robb tells me many things, probably more than he should," Jon admits with a small smile. "In his defense, he shared it with me because he was happy, not because he was bragging."

"I don't think he was bragging," I shake my head. Such a thought hasn't even crossed my mind. I do not consider myself a prize worth bragging for. Yes, in all fairness, he could have done a lot worse. I do not have much to offer, but my family's wealth and an average amount of Tyrell beauty must make me better than some. But I am far from bragging material. Margaery, on the other hand, is a grand prize. I should be lucky Robb didn't go for that one. "He does not seem like the kind of man who brags."

"On some occasions, he does," Jon laughs, obviously amused at some inside joke that he shares with his brother. "But not with you. I believe it was genuine happiness."

"Well, any girl would be flattered to hear that, and I am no exception," I murmur as my cheeks change color, only managing to offer a shy smile. "It is still not official, however. We still have to wait for our parents to come to a final arrangement." I remind Jon and myself at the same time. I should not start planning my bloody wedding when I do not know if there will be a wedding.

"Oh, it will be Clara, soon enough," Jon reassures me. "Robb spoke to Lord Stark. Lord Stark did not oppose it. I imagine he might have already spoken to your family by now. If not, he will by the time we leave." He tells me.

"That will give me no time to prepare myself," I say, realizing I haven't even considered this before. I cannot just leave my home overnight. All this talk about marriage, and I did not once consider that it would be difficult for me to leave Highgarden, the only home I have ever known. My first thought is that I will not have time to pack all of my belongings, but then I quickly become distracted as I realize what leaving High Garden will really mean. I will abandon the place I have lived in my entire life to go and make another place my home. I was born and raised in Highgarden, I spent my childhood running around its gardens, and I have never stopped to consider that my children wouldn't be able to do the same. Now, with such a dark thought hovering above me, I begin to wonder if I am ready at all. "I suppose it could have been worse."

"Perhaps you will travel to Winterfell at a later time?" Jon suggests.

"Perhaps," I nod, agreeing. "I suppose I will find out soon enough."

"You will enjoy Winterfell, I think," Jon tells me. I notice a small smile on his face at the mention of his home. "It does not have much greenery, not as much as Highgarden does, but has a different kind of beauty all its own. It'll take your breath away."

There is no place like Highgarden. But I was always destined to leave my childhood home, as every other noble woman is expected to do when they wed. Perhaps one day, when I am older, I will have a chance to bring my children here, to have them see the place I grew up in, to run around in the labyrinth just as I did with my siblings. All the secret passages and hallways would be discovered yet again, as my children would play with Willas's children, Margaery's prince and princesses. Perhaps even Loras's children. Children's laughter will fill these halls again, just as it did, so many years ago. My worry lessens at the hopeful thought.

"I'm looking forward to it," I smile at Jon. "I have always-"

"Clara," I hear a voice call and when I turn around, I see Margaery standing behind us. "Jon. I'm sorry to interrupt, but can I possibly steal my sister away?" she asks, flashing her most charming smile. I can't see why she would use it on Jon. He is not a possible suitor of hers and I thought those smiles were only reserved for the _worthy_. Not to mention that we already know that he likes her well enough.

"Of course." Jon smiles at her.

"Jon, we can finish our conversation later," I grin at the man as I stand up. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He nods his head again, as if he knows that I am not thanking him for a nice conversation but for giving it another try.

Margaery takes me by the hand and I hide my surprise when I realize she is dragging me out the hall.

"What is the matter?" I ask her.

"Look around." she tells me, stopping right before the door. I look around, confused.

"Am I supposed to be seeing something?"

"Where is Father?" she prompts me as I glance around, and then I realize he is not here. "Mother?" I look around again, not finding her anywhere. "Grandmother? Lord Stark?" she urges me, but once I look around, I realize that they are nowhere to be seen. As my eyes meet with the green ones of my sister, I notice a bright grin on her face. "I do not want to rush ahead of the cavalry, but I believe they are together and discussing a certain marriage deal."

"Are they now?" I ask, surprised at how nervous I sound. The moment she says it, the moment all the pieces start fitting perfectly, my panic begins. "Am I supposed to feel as if the ground beneath my feet is shaking? Is it common?" I ask, watching as her eyes go wide once she realizes that I am not joking. Before I can say or do anything, she grabs me by the hand again and drags me out of the hall. She does not stop pulling me after her until she has dragged me into my chambers and shut the door. With shaking legs, I walk out onto the balcony, my sister following.

"Do not be so nervous, Clara," she tries to reassure me, putting her hands on my shoulders. "It will all turn out well in the end."

"Will it, though?" I ask, feeling the panic rising in my chest even more. "Am I read to leave this place? Am I ready to leave you? Willas? Loras? We have always been together, never apart for longer than a month or two. How will I fair without you? It doesn't matter where I go, does it? It will not be Highgarden and I _know_ Highgarden. I'll be living in a stranger's place, a stranger's home."

"Clara."

"How will I adapt? Will the people there even accept me?"

"Clara!"

"What if I can't adapt? What if my life comes down to missing home and feeling miserable?"

"Clara!"

"Is that what life is supposed to be like? Is that all I have to look forward to?"

"Clara!" Margaery yells, shaking me by the shoulders. It is the shake that makes me snap out of my brief hysteria. I take a deep breath as I struggle to push the panic away. "Clara, you are panicking. Take a deep breath and close your eyes. Go on, deep breaths," she instructs me. With no other choice, I listen to her. I close my eyes and breath in, taking in the cool, spring air. "Now, listen to me. Keep your eyes closed!" she snaps when I try to open my eyes. I listen to her. "You will marry him. And he will treat you well. He is kind and he is mad about you. His home will become your home. Yes, you will miss Highgarden and it will never leave your heart, but you will adapt quickly, and learn to love Winterfell as much as you love Highgarden. You and Robb are good for each. You have nothing to fret over. You are a strong young woman.

You are a Tyrell. Remember our words, 'Growing strong'. Wherever you end up planted, sister, you will always find a way to grow and thrive in your surroundings. Men are the ones who fight wars; women are the ones who keep a house together. They have strength in their arms and we have them in our hearts. And if hardship comes, you will handle it like the champion you are and you will never, _never_ , let him see the panic in you. You will not allow the worry to consume you. You will keep a smile on your face, making your man believe that you are as indestructible as you are beautiful. Because you are."

I open my eyes. I am shocked and… touched. I have never heard such heartfelt praise from Margaery, or from anyone, for that matter. I hadn't even realized how much I needed to hear it, not until Margaery said it. I needed these words of encouragement more than I ever needed guidance that Grandmother provided. I needed someone who believed in me, not someone who wanted to use me as pawn in their political machinations. I needed someone to have the faith in me that I was so desperately lacking.

I didn't even realize that I did not have it. I had become a coward.

"What will I do without you?" I ask, tears gathering in my eyes as I look at my sister. "How will I manage without you holding my hand? Without Willas? Without Loras? I never even stopped to consider what it would be like to live a life without the three of you by my side. We have worked as one for far too long, Margaery. I'm not sure how well we will carry on when life separates us."

"We will," she reassures me, not a trace of doubt visible on her face. "You will. We are strong when we are together but that doesn't make us weak when we are apart. We will visit each other. We will send ravens to each other, daily, if need be. We will not be in the same place, but we will still be together. No matter what happens, I will never let you down. Any troubles you might face, you should know that Loras, Willas and I will be right there, watching your back and guarding you."

"You know it goes both ways, right?" I ask, sheepishly, afraid that she doesn't. All that she said? It goes for them as well. I would never turn my back on my family, especially not my siblings.

"Yes," she smiles at me. "Now, wipe away those tears. You are a beauty. Tears don't make you any less beautiful, but you do not need them. If and when you need to cry, take a deep breath and do not do it. Not in front of someone else. Never show weakness, Clara. Not in front of your husband, not in front of anyone else. Only your blood can know of your weakness. Cry, if you must, but do it when you have no eyes on you. A smile is the strongest weapon in your arsenal, not tears. Only weak women use tears."

"I have learned more on this balcony now than I have learned in my entire lifetime," I chuckle, making Margaery laugh. "I will remember your words, I promise you."

"I know you will," she nods, wiping away a stray tear from my cheek. "Now, let's see that smile." She instructs. Feeling a little bit foolish, I grin. At least it wasn't forced. "Good." She says

I am just about to reply when there is a knock on the door. Before either Margaery or I could speak, the door opens and I watch in silence as my mother walks onto the balcony, wearing a small smile.

"Clara, darling," she says softly. "Your father needs to speak to you."

"Is it what I think it is?" I ask. At least now I'm not worrying.

"I believe it is." She confirms. I turn to Margaery, who is smiling at me.

"I will wait right here." She reassures me. I nod before following my mother out of the chambers.

"Are you ready for this, darling?" she asks me.

"I don't think I will ever be more ready than I am now." I mumble.

"That is not a yes." She notices, frowning down at me. I manage to smile for her.

"Don't worry, mother," I reassure her. "I am just… a little bit confused. Giddy. Nervous. Worried. I don't quite know what I feel, actually. But I want this. I am sure of it."

"I am glad," she sighs in relief, grabbing a hold of my hand and squeezing it. "Robb Stark is a good match for you. He will be Lord of Winterfell one day and you will be his lady wife. You will rule the North with him. Your marriage will create a strong bond between our houses. Hopefully, your union will be a loving one."

"I think it will," I admit, not sure where this certainty is coming from. "I have gotten to know him well enough. Land and property aside, I believe he is as good as they get."

"Good," she smiles at me as we stop before the door. She opens it and the moment I follow her in, I feel too many sets of eyes on me. Father, Grandmother, Lord Stark. Robb did not turn around though; he is sitting before the three of them, Father and Lord Stark standing and Grandmother sitting on the other side of the table. I already feel uncomfortable; I cannot imagine how it must feel to him. Gods know how long he has been seated in front of them.

"Clara, darling," Father greets me. "Do take a seat," He points at the seat right next to Robb. I do as he says, pleasantly surprised that I'm not trembling anymore. Margaery's words did wonders. I might feel as if I am going to explode on the inside, but it does not show. At least I hope it doesn't. "I believe you already know why we have called you here?" Father asks.

"It is not difficult to imagine." I reply in a pleasant tone, catching a smile from Lord Stark as he look down at his son and me.

"Lord Stark here has asked for your hand in marriage for his eldest son, Robb," Grandmother tells me. Eldest son? Why not call him "heir", "the first of his name" and list every other title of importance he has? "We, as your family, agree to the match. Robb has confirmed he agrees with is as well, but we do need your consent as well." She tells me, giving me a pointed look.

What is she expecting me to do? Decline, in front of everyone? Decline, even though I know she had a pretty good idea that this was what I wanted from the very start?

"Well, I consent." I speak up, surprised that my voice isn't shaking either.

"You both agree to be bethrothed to be married, by your own free will?" Father reiterates. I have never been asked for my hand in marriage before, so I have nothing to compare this to, but I imagine that such words need to be said, in front of witnesses, to confirm that neither one of us has been forced into this.

I wonder what happens in situations when people _are_ forced into a marriage alliance.

"Aye." Robb confirms.

"Yes." I follow his lead.

"Very well then," father announces with bright smile on his face. "I believe we have a wedding to plan!" he grins gleefully at Lord Stark.

"Do not run ahead of the cavalry, Mace," Grandmother admonishes, eying her son with something I could only describe as judgment. The moment she speaks up again, I feel that panic rising again, but for all the wrong reasons. Why is she saying that he shouldn't rush? Does she even want this to happen? Why not rush? Why not get married now and secure the alliance right away? "Don't you think that we must settle what our little bride will bring with her into this marriage?" she asks. Gold. Of course. What else could it be?

"Lady Olenna," Lord Stark speaks up. "I did not ask for this betrothal because of coin. I asked because my son assured me that he has genuine affection for your granddaughter."

"How very nice of you boy," Father compliments my husband to be. "You seem like a decent lad."

"Mace," Grandmother warns him. If she keeps talking, she is going to ruin everything. "That is very honorable of you and your son, Lord Stark, but that does not make it any less important."

"My Lady, if I may speak?" Robb asks. As my grandmother raises an eyebrow at him, I quickly say a prayer, or two, for him. He cannot even begin to imagine the sharpness of the Queen of Thorns. She nods her head. "I understand why that is an important matter that needs to be settled before we marry, but I see no reason for delays. Why wait, when we have all agreed to it? That is, if Clara does not want to wait?" he asks, finally looking at me.

I am not going to lie, it feels nice to be asked for my opinion. He seems to be the only one who cares.

"I do not," I speak up, feeling all of them staring right at me. "I suppose I do need a little bit of time to pack my belongings, but other than that, I see no reason for any delays. Why complicated it?" I ask.

"Well, who am I to oppose the power of young love?" Grandmother chuckles at us. I feel a horrible feeling growing inside of me. She will speak to me about this. I openly disagreed with her, trying to make her actions and ideas seem foolish. I do fear her, but I would rather avoid her wrath. "Mace, Lord Stark, you and I shall sit up late tonight to finalize the details of the marriage contract. If you agree. One day for Clara to pack up and leave sounds like a challenge, so we give her a few more. Then, if Lord Stark and his son agree, she will join them in Winterfell as soon as possible."

"Of course." Lord Stark nods his head.

"And where will the wedding take place?" Mother asks.

"That is for us to agree on and for you to find out," Grandmother smiles at her in the most condescending way. "Run along now. And do not shout it from the rooftops just yet," she warns, looking directly at Robb and me as we stand up. "It will become official once you reach Winterfell."

"Thank you." Robb nods his head. I can the corners of his mouth raise slightly when she nods back at him.

"Thank you." I thank them as well and I barely stop myself from running out of the room. The relief that is sweeping through my entire being suddenly evaporates as I hear Robb close the door behind us. For a moment, I thought that the trial was over. They have agreed and it will happen.

I did not even think that I would have a moment alone with him so soon after we were officially betrothed.

My husband to be.

We look at each other in complete silence. I start to feel uncomfortable under that intense blue gaze of his, but then he smiles at me. He is beaming. And I am afraid that it is contagious.

"We have done it."

"We have." I agree, laughing.

My laughter becomes louder when he takes me by complete surprise and hugs me, wrapping his arms around my body as he pulls me closer. The relief floods back into me.

"Shh!" I hiss when he starts laughing too. I point at the door, warning him that they still might be able to hear us. "They want us to wait to celebrate. We will wait."

"Aye, we will," he nods his head. I grin when he takes my two hands and encases them within his own. "I promise you that you will not regret marrying me," he vows. "I will not let you down, Clara. We will grow together. We will work together. I know that we are still getting to know each other, but I do not think I have ever been more sure of anything in my entire life."

"I know the feeling." I admit, making his smile grow even wider.

"I will do my best to make sure we're happy." He promises.

I think that might be the reason I like him so much. He is not going to make _me_ happy. He is not going to give me all I have ever dreamed of and more. He is not going to treat me like a Queen. Those promises sound lovely, but they are… empty. They have all been said before. They have been said and broken, many, many times. He doesn't want to make me happy, he doesn't want to make that his life's mission.

He wants for us both to be happy. He wants us to work together towards happiness. He does not claim to love me madly, which I know he doesn't. He is not trying to woo me with some romantic and overused sonnet, with promises he could never keep. I am well aware of the fact that we have a long journey ahead of us. We have only just started reading the first page of each other's lives, and we will have entire book we will have to finish, _together._

And he knows it too. He is not acting like some honorable prince or charming knight from the songs.

He is simply a young man who has faith that out marriage will lead to happiness and maybe even love of we work together on it.

"I will do the same," I promise him. "You may not know this about me, Robb Stark, but I do not make promises lightly. I will not promise you a fairy tale marriage. As much as I would like to, I can't do that. I can only promise you that I will do the best I can, always. I promise you that I will do all that is in my power, and that I will never intentionally let you down."

"And that is more than enough." he laughs.

This time around, I am not surprised when he pulls me in for a kiss. I am ready for it, I am expecting it and when he finally puts his lips on mine, I welcome it.

No, it's not mad love. But it is respect and understanding. With a fair amount of attraction and willingness to make an actual effort. Which, in my humble opinion, sounds like an ideal start for a marriage.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello, hello! Here's a new chapter guys. Wow, we're over 200. I didn't think we'd get there when I started this story, but I'm super happy. As always, thank you to darkwolf76, my beta. Thank you so, so much for all your help *bows*!**

 **We say goodbye to Highgarden in this one and while I can't say for sure we'll ever be back there, I can promise you that we will not stay in Winterfell for good. It still isn't over :) As for the rest, you'll just have to read and enjoy.**

 **Follow, favorite and pretty please, review. It really means a lot to me :)**

 **I hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

With the tournament at an end and celebrations done, the many nobles guests who descended upon Highgarden are all departing today, and just as my family greeted them all, we must see them all off . Lord Tyrion and Ser Jaime are the first ones to leave and while I do promise to see them soon, I cannot say when or if it will happen.

Other goodbyes I do not care much for. The ones that are important are either first or last. With Oberyn standing in front of me, wearing his seductive smirk, I find it difficult to smile back, knowing that with him, I truly do not know if I will ever see him again. It is just about set in stone; I will go North and I will marry Robb. Once I call Winterfell home, I cannot know if I will ever have a chance to travel as south as Dorne again. And I'm not sure if our friendship will be reason enough for Oberyn to leave his warm home and visit the cold, hard North, as he calls it.

"Don't look so sad, love," he smirks down at me. "Save the sad looks for your wolf boy."

"Can you not be such an ass, at least today?" I roll my eyes as he starts laughing. "I will miss you, you fool! Gods only know when and if I will ever have a chance to go to Dorne again!"

"There will come a time, I am sure of it," he shakes his head. "Damn it, Clara. You are one of my favorite people in this wretched world. If I have to walk all the way to Winterfell to see you again, I will." He tells me. Being at a loss for words, I simply pull him in for a hug.

"Just be careful Oberyn," I warn him. "I know you. You can get yourself in trouble in a blink of an eye. Don't get involved in mischief when I'm not there to pull you out. I don't want you dead before I get to see you again, alright?"

"I promise," he rolls his eyes, like a child being scolded by his mother. "Will you write to me, love?"

"I will," I nod my head, knowing that will be our only means of communication for a very long time. "Stay safe. I hope your trip goes well. Write me when you return home."

"I will," he rolls his eyes again. "You stay safe as well. You will be living amongst wolves now. Do not let them eat you alive, you hear me?" he asks. For a moment, I think he is joking and I am about to laugh, but I do not see a smile on his face. He is dead serious. His words make a shiver go down my spine. His warning is real, and he means every single word of it.

"No one will ever eat me alive," I promise him with a teasing grin, trying to reassure him. "I swear."

"Good girl," he smiles at me, and unlike the last time we parted ways, he kisses me on the forehead and not on the lips. He knows I am now promised to another man and as much as it surprises me, he respects that fact. "We will meet again, Clara Tyrell."

With those words, he walks away from me. I watch as he rushes down the stairs, to join his men, who were already on the road, leaving Highgarden behind. As much as I would like to see him off and wave if he was to look back, I have another perhaps even more important goodbye waiting for me.

They have stayed as long as they can. I know Robb wanted to stay longer. He told me himself, just last night. We went out for a walk, accompanied by Margaery and Loras, whom acted as chaperones to ensure my virtue and reputation remained intact until my wedding. Not that I really needed a chaperone, with my betrothed being the son of the most honorable man in the Seven Kingdoms. At least my siblings respected that fact enough to give Robb and me a reasonable amount of privacy.

But it does not matter. Soon, possibly even sooner than I would like, I will be on my way to Winterfell. As of now, I cannot say who will be joining me, nor if the wedding will occur while I am there. It is expected that my family to attend the ceremony, but organizing our entire household, especially Olenna Tyrell, to make such a long journey… well, I am glad I will not be around to see all the chaos.

Many things remain unclear, truly. My betrothal to Robb has not even become official yet, but I am going to Winterfell. I am going to visit and stay with his family, in what should be my future home, not knowing _when_ it will become my home.

One thing is certain, and that is that I will be leaving very soon. Once I reach Winterfell everything will become uncertain again.

The little privacy we had last night was long gone; my brothers and sister are here, as well as his entire family. Whatever it is that I have to say, they will all hear it. All the words we will share until we meet again will be public. I may write to him, if I wish to, but I doubt I'll have anything of interest to write about in the short period of time that it will take me to follow him and his family to Winterfell.

I am not looking forward to the separation, not at all. I am afraid that the moment he turns and leaves, bad things will happen. I am afraid that Grandmother might change her mind, if she ever truly was supportive about our possible union. And even if she doesn't change her mind, a lot of things could happen in before we meet again. It will take me a month, at the very least.

I have to pack and I do not know how much I am packing. I might be preparing myself for a wedding, but I don't know. I might be returning to Highgarden at some point, before we get married. We might get married here, Gods know when. I know nothing, absolutely nothing. All this uncertainty frustrates me.

And I do not have time to find out anything, since I am approaching them right now. Willas is talking to Lord Eddard, laughing, while Margaery and Loras are speaking to Robb, Jon and Theon. Robb's head turns around just as I was about to approach them and then he excuses himself and walks over to me. He has a smile on his face even before he stands before me.

"The time has come."

"So it has," I nod my head, smiling in return. "I don't know what I was expecting when this whole tourney started. I am… I am glad to have met you, Robb." I admit. Grandmother warned me that marriage would be used to create a political alliance. I had expected that. What I had not expected was that I would actually end up liking the man I would get married to.

"So am I," he nods. "Soon enough, we will meet again, won't we?" he asks and I smile at how adorable he is acting, as if he has no idea that we are going to end up being husband and wife.

"Well, if you don't die on me, we will." I joke.

"Don't die on me either," he chuckles. "But in all seriousness, Clara, I am glad this is happening. And I hope that you will find Winterfell… fitting."

"It is not Winterfell I should find fitting," I laugh. "What I need to find fitting… that is already settled."

"Clara, do not laugh at me," he tells me in a serious tone, although he still smiles at me. "I can only imagine what it is like for you to know that you are days away from leaving the only home you have ever known. Weeks, at best. It is not an easy thing to do. You shouldn't pretend."

"I am not pretending," I shake my head, answering honestly. "I am yet to come to terms with it, Robb. I don't think I have managed to fully realize what all of this means to me, to my life. I will probably only realize it when I look back at Highgarden as I ride away. There isn't much that can be changed there, I am afraid. You are to be Lord of Winterfell. I am to be your wife. It is simply the way life works. I would rather not think in that way just yet. It will be difficult, without a doubt. But I will not just… move and live with you. I will make a new life for myself. Besides, I have a few more days of denial. Be a good future husband and let me live in denial while I can." I laugh, hoping that my light tone of my voice can take some seriousness away from my explanation.

I already know it is not going to be easy. The last thing I want is for him to remind me of it. After all, I am going to need his help. I know myself well enough, I will not be able to adapt to the change if I do not have someone next to me, holding my hand and guiding me, giving me reassurance when I need it. Ideally. If he wishes to. It would be much appreciated.

"I shall leave you in denial then," he chuckles. "Until we meet again, Lady Clara."

"Until we meet again, Lord Robb." I grin, getting on my toes to kiss him on the cheek. I wish I could kiss him longer, or perhaps, properly, on the lips, but that would be taking it a step too far in public.

Side by side, we walk together over to Margaery and Loras, who are still speaking to Theon and Jon.

"Jon. Theon. I have to bid you farewell) for now, but we will see one another soon enough." I smile at them.

"Yes. Our Lord here needs to get married!" Theon laughs, hitting Robb on the shoulders.

"Theon…" Robb growls at him in warning.

"I will go and speak to your little brother now, as he is more mature than all of you combined." I sigh, making Robb and Jon laugh, my siblings look at me in wonder and Theon getting a bit red in the face. With one last smile Jon's way, I walk over to Lord Eddard, whom Bran is hiding behind.

"Little Lord Bran?" I ask, not wanting to stop the conversation Willas and Lord Eddard were having.

"Lady Clara," Bran smiles at me, looking relieved that it is me calling for him and not someone else. "Father tells me you will be riding for Winterfell soon." I wonder how much he knows. I somehow doubt Robb told him anything, or Lord Eddard. However, I do not doubt Bran's ability to sneak up on them and eavesdrop. After all, he almost defeated me at hide and go seek, and we were playing on my territory!

"I will," I nod my head, smiling at him. "And when I do, I want you to show me all the best hiding spots in Winterfell and all those walls you want to climb."

"Yes!" he beams.

"Lady Clara, I beg of you, do not give him ideas." Lord Eddard warns me, still wearing that kind smile.

"I only jest, Lord Eddard," I tell him, turning my head to wink at Bran, knowing his father is able to see it. "I wish you save travles on your journey home."

"I hope you stay safe when you leave for Winterfell too," he nods his head. As much as the betrothal was Robb's decision, I cannot help but to get the impression that Eddard agrees with his son's decision wholeheartedly. Politically, it makes sense. This marriage might just start one of the greatest alliances Westeros has ever known. On one side, the Starks, the most ancient great house in the Seven Kingdoms, rule the entire North, the largest of the Seven Kingdoms. And on the other side, my house the Tyrells, the second wealthiest family in the realm, holds the Reach and feeds almost the entire population of Westeros. The only bigger alliances I can think of is the one between the Baratheons and the Lannisters, after Robert's rebellion, and the one between the Targaryens and Martells, when Dorne became the only unconquered part of the Seven Kingdoms. As benign as it seemed before, I wonder now if this will cause our families trouble. "You will be joining us soon enough, will you not?"

"Soon, both in Winterfell and as family, if Gods are willing," I smile. "Do keep Robb safe, Lord Stark. I do not want to become a widow even before I become a wife." I joke, making the man laugh.

"You wouldn't be a widow if you were never married," Willas interrupts. "If anything should happen to Lord Robb, you'll be up for sale again, little sister."

"Willas!" I gasp in surprise. Of course, we all knew it was the truth, both me and Lord Stark alike, but a morbid thought to speak aloud. "Do shut your mouth, big brother."

"Don't worry, my lady," Lord Stark reassures me. "I will make sure that Robb lives long enough to make you a wife." He turns his head to glance over his party. "We are ready to leave. Farewell, for now," he departs with a nod.

"Farewell, my lord." I give him one last smile, before turning around and waving to the boys, who have already said their goodbyes and were walking down the stairs, ready to leave Highgarden.

As I feel uneasiness grow in me, Robb turns around and flashes me one last smile. It's one of his full smiles, ones that showed his dimples and made him look like a careless young man and not a future lord.

If I have second thoughts on our wedding day, I must remember that smile. Whatever happens, I must remember it. He is not the only one who made a choice. As much as he chose me, I have chosen him. And I need to remind myself of that.

I grin back at him, even catching Jon's eye, before offering them all another wave.

I will see them, very soon. I cannot afford to miss them. And I won't. As much as I will be one of them someday, they are still little more than strangers. Strangers with kind words and good offers, but strangers.

The next time Robb and I part ways, I believe he will no longer be just a stranger to me.

* * *

It is said that everyone is calm when they have a bounty to eat. I used to believe that, but I am not so sure anymore. A vast spread of cheese, fruits, sweets and wine lays on the table in front of me, but I have no desire to eat and feel the opposite of calm.

I have my grandmother's eyes. That is the most unsettling thing about her. Whenever I look at her, I recognize my own eyes, staring back at me. It matters not that I can see the years gone by on her face; her eyes are as young as they ever were. At times, it feels as if my own eyes are staring me down, judging me.

It all could be softened with a smile, but I do not often get them from her; the grandchildren that did not share her eyes, but instead, have green, soft eyes… they are the ones who receive all her smiles.

"You are wearing green," she notices, looking down at my dress. It is not a look of dismay. "With gold embroidery, nonetheless."

"It is a gift from Loras," I explain. "He always had a better eye for fabrics than I did."

"Yes, he has a better one than even your sister," she sighs. As irritated as I can be by here, it is quite amusing when she aims her sharp retorts at someone else. "Even when you are not wearing our colors, Clara, you are still a Tyrell. Don't you ever, _ever_ forget that." she warns me.

"I will not."

I do not have the energy to disagree with her on anything anymore. Not to mention that I do not have anything to disagree with! I am a Tyrell. Even if I become a Stark, and give up the Tyrell name, I will always have Tyrell blood. I will always be a Tyrell from Highgarden, a girl who grew up among hedges and flowers, singers and expensive fruit, built to be a perfect little wife to a perfect, not so little lord.

"You will need to keep an eye on your betrothed," Grandmother warns me. "He seems like a smart boy, but he also looks impulsive. Reminds me more of his dead uncle than his father. The Northerners are simpler people... rougher around the edges than many southerners but also hardier. It's an admirable trait. The Starks in particular… Lord Eddard has honor, a rare enough thing in the south and I believe he passed it on to the boy. That will at least ensure he treats you well, but honor and impulse can lead to dangerous things. You will need to reign him in to prevent him from doing something ridiculously stupid."

"What kind of stupidity are you speaking of?" I ask, worried. The way she talks makes me think that she knows more than I do, more than anyone does, even the Spider, the King's Master of Whispers. I can't tell if it's her wit and experience talking out of her, or if she has the ability to foresee the future. Either way, I do not feel comfortable.

"Any stupidity caused by honor. Eddard is not an old men. I imagine he will live for a while longer, so you will not become the Lady of Winterfell as fast as you might think. Which is good. You will have time to learn. You will have the time to get to know your husband, what his weaknesses and strengths are. He will be the Warden of the North. And when ruling the North becomes his duty, you will need those reigns to be in your hands. Robert and Eddard were as close as brothers. That does not mean that their sons will act the same. And once you have the North in your hands, make sure to keep it firmly in your grasp.

"I am not a leader, nor a skilled manipulator."

"Oh, but you are," she smiles knowingly at me, leaning across the table. I look down in surprise when she puts her hand over mine, holding it tightly. "You are and you do not even know it. And even if you were not, you would learn how quickly. If I trust your ability, so should you."

I don't think I am ready for this. I am not used to it. I do not even know how to react to it, what to say or do. And what to think? What caused this sudden change of heart in her?

Is it possible that she has faith in me now that I have won an excellent match, when everything is settled? Perhaps she doubted me while I was still unattached, but now that I have procured such a favorable potential alliance with a prestigious family, she sees me as skilled and useful?

She is right. I am intelligent enough to recognize it. The only difference is… I do not need to control my husband, I need to help him. Unlike my father, Robb is no simple man. If I was to try to manipulate him like a puppet master, he would know. And I would never do that. He is not going to be my puppet, just as I will not be my Grandmother's puppet. I would _never_ betray my family. I would never _betray_ my Grandmother. That goes without saying. But that does not mean that I will be her agent, and bend the Starks and the North to the Tyrell will.

I will never turn my back on my family, but I will accept and respect my new family as well.

"Why are you telling me all of this?" I ask. I do not pull my hand away from her grasp.

"Because two days from now, you will leave here for Winterfell," she offers me a kind smile, which only worries me more. What is the matter with her? "You will be the lone rose in the North."

"I will not be alone," I remind her. "Willas is going with me."

"To see you off, yes," she agrees, nodding her head. "But he will return. Once all of us die, you and your brother will have to maintain the alliance. It is a good thing the two of you have gotten along well, ever since you were children. Now, that is settled. You know very well what you must do. Now, we need to have a wedding to plan. Do you wish to be married there or here?" she asks me.

"Would you be willing to travel north for my wedding?" I ask her in disbelief.

"I could handle it," she smirks as she releases my hand. "The two of you can make that decision. Either way, we will offer to pay, of course."

"I think Winterfell would be a better option," I mumble, unsure of my own words. "They believe in the Old Gods, not in the Seven. If I am to be a member of their family, I should adopt their religion."

"Oh, Gods help me," she sighs. "You truly have fallen for the boy."

"No. I simply want to do what is right."

* * *

I have spent years preparing myself for the day I would leave Highgarden for my future husband's home. I thought I would be ready when the day came, but I am not.

Tomorrow morning, Willas and I will be leaving for Winterfell, along with about a hundred of our men and servants. Once we arrive there, the official betrothal will take place and in due time, my family will travel North for my wedding. I still have a while yet before I become Clara Stark, but I am leaving for the Starks' home tomorrow morning. I am leaving the only place I ever called home.

I simply had to say goodbye to it in the best possible way. I had to do it justice after all the years of happy memories that gained within its walls.

Loras stole all the food and drinks from the kitchen. Willas kept watch as Loras robbed the cooks, and as we were sneaking around the castle, making our way towards the maze. Margaery brought sheets for us to sit on. The sun hadn't even set when we spread the sheets for our picnic and started enjoying what was bound to be our last night together for a very long time, possibly my last night ever in Highgarden.

* * *

The sun had set hours ago, and we were all still in there, laughing as we watched the stars twinkle above us, shining as brightly as they always have here, at Highgarden. We drink Arbor gold, the best that the kitchens of Highgarden had to offer. My cheeks are burning and hurting. Burning from the wine, hurting from all the laughter and smiling.

"Gods, I will miss these nights," I sigh, falling back on the sheet as I stare at the sky above me. The wine does not make me drunk enough to be unaware of what I am saying. "I will miss all of this. This maze. This sky, this castle. All the secret passages we use. And you. I am going to miss you three terribly." I admit.

"Oh, Clara," Loras smirks down at me, amused by dramatic statement, and grabs my hand. "You are not going to the end of the world."

"Actually, I am," I disagree, ignoring the laughter I caused with the three of them. "It certainly feels as if I am. I know I will come back here. I have to come back, someday. But I still fear that I will not. I fear that I will never come back to Highgarden again, or that many years will pass before I do."

"Even when you are away from Highgarden, you will still have us," Willas tells me. "I am going with you North and will stay for a while, until you get settled. And even when I leave, when _we_ are not with you, we can still send letters. Whenever you write, you know we will respond." He reassures me and from the corner of my eye, I see Margaery nodding her head in agreement.

"I will still miss you." I sigh, feeling the tears creeping up on me. "It just… it doesn't feel right, the four us to not being together.

"We will see each other soon enough," Loras reassures me again, squeezing my hand a bit harder. "We will come to your wedding. And you will have to come to Margaery's wedding too. Or would you dare and miss your sister's wedding, to a king, nonetheless?" he asks.

"A King?" I ask. Both Loras and Margaery look away. I jump up at once. "A king? I thought you wanted to marry the prince, not the king."

"I want to be a queen." Margaery repeats, for what has to be the hundredth time.

"But the king is married, Marg," Willas tells her, looking wide-eyed. Well, at least I am not the only one that is surprised with this turn of events. "You can either marry the prince and wait for your turn, or you can kill the queen and marry the King. Which one sounds more honorable to you?"

"No one will be killed," Margaery rolls her eyes at our older brother. "Annulments have happened before." She tells him. Now she just sounds delusional. This sounds impossible, even for a woman as capable and beautiful as Margaery. I am afraid she bit off more than she could ever possibly chew.

"This has Renly's name written all over it," I say, only to see an alarmed look appear on Loras's face. It is not the alarmed look he gets whenever someone mentions his lover's name. This is worse and it only serves as a confirmation to me. Renly _is_ behind this, at least to a certain extent. "Do you know what? I cannot worry myself about it," I sigh, smiling at my beautiful sister. "I have more than enough on my plate as it is. You are no idiot, Margaery and I believe in you. Whatever it is that you want to do, you will do it and you will be successful. And if by some chance you are not, I know you have enough wits to take care of yourself and keep yourself out of danger."

It makes more sense now. It all makes more sense. They will have me in the North, Willas in the Reach and Margaery in King's Landing, either with a King or with a Prince and a King to be. For all I know, they will marry Loras off to east, or perhaps in the Riverlands, between the North and the Reach.

Without me even realizing it, my family has planted the seeds in every possible corner of the realm. Soon enough, Tyrells will be everywhere, stretching out from Highgarden, with the vine going all the way up and around Winterfell and down and around King's Landing. It makes perfect sense, to someone who is hungry for power. Having four good looking, intelligent and capable children can give you prospects you could only ever dream of.

I will be their ally, but I will not be their puppet. There is a big difference between the two. I promised it to myself. I will not turn my back on my family, but I will not neglect the family I will marry into either.

"May Gods help the men who pursue Tyrell women," Willas chuckles as he lifts up his goblet, raising it in the direction of Margaery and me. "They will need all the help they can get."

"Willas, do not ruin my last night at home, I am begging you," I sigh, looking down at my now empty cup. "I am leaving tomorrow. I do not want to talk of plots and power tonight. I do not know how I will adapt to my new home, or how I will cope without the three of you, by my side. I am worried, frightened, and already regretting things that haven't even happened yet and your words are not exactly helping."

I can share my fears with my siblings. They are probably the only three people in this world that would not use them against me, no matter what I do. If I am to admit that I am insecure and like a scared, lost child, it will stay between us. I will never forget the night Margaery told me that. The only people in the world that are allowed to see you weak are your family.

"Alright, here's what we are going to do," Margery speaks up, taking the reins of this conversation in her hands. "The three of us will go around in circles and say what we will miss the most about Clara."

"I don't think that will help me either." I mumble, petrified at the very thought of having to sit through the three of them singing my praises.

"If it'll make you feel better, you can say what you will miss about each of us," Margery rolls her eyes. "Alright. I will start. I will miss… your laughter. When something is slightly humorous, you chuckle, like a proper little lady. But when something is truly humorous, you roar with laughter, until tears stream down your cheeks and you cannot breathe anymore. I will miss you laughing like that."

I am right. It is not comfortable, at all.

"My turn," Loras speaks up, grinning at me too eagerly. "Eye rolls. Our Grandmother might be the Queen of Thorns, but you are the Queen of Eye rolls," he announces, making Margaery, Willas and I laugh. "Your eye rolls are always perfect. They never last too long, nor are they too obvious. And your timing is always impeccable. You taught me how to be cynical, my dear sister. I will never forget that."

"I love you too, Loras." I chuckle when he puts his arms around me and squeezes me tightly.

"What about you, Willas?" Margaery asks.

"Oh, nothing," He replies, smirking down at his cup. "We won't part ways for a while. I'll have time to think."

He tried to play it off as a joke and for the most part, I think he was successful, but the look on his face tells me that he might just miss me more than Margaery and Loras combined. After all, he is my partner in crime. I know I will miss him the most once we part ways. I suppose it is a good thing that we will have a bit more time together.

"Alright, now it's my turn. I'm going to do it a bit differently. I will ask you all to promise me something. Alright?" I ask. Although surprised, they all nod their heads. "Margaery. I want you to promise me that you will be careful. That you will drop everything and run away if your little mission becomes too dangerous. You will not risk your life in getting that crown. Can you promise me that?" I ask.

She stays silent for a while, eyeing me in that unsettling way that Grandmother sometimes does. I think she is trying to decipher whether I am speaking out of worry or … jealousy, perhaps? Finally, her facial expression softens and she offers me a smile.

"I promise."

"Very well. Loras," I sigh as I turn around to face me younger brother. "Promise me that you too will be careful. Do not follow Renly around like a lost puppy. You are smarter than that. You are your own person, not Renly's pet. Promise me that you will not forget about that and that you will use caution when it comes to your lover."

"I promise." he tells me, not thinking twice about it, like Margaery did. He _knows_ that I didn't speak those words out of vanity, but genuine worry for him. He understands.

"And you," I finally turn around to Willas. "Willas, you… I hope you realize what it is that you want in life. Who you want to be. And I hope that you will be brave enough to be that person. Promise me you will be that person."

"I promise."

"Alright now," I sigh, forcing a smile. "That is enough. Enough emotional moments for one night, I think. I am already on edge, I do not want to force myself over my emotional limit. Now, let's laugh, drink and reflect on all those amazing memories we share. Alright?"

And so we do.

I cannot recall a time when I laughed more than I do this night. The whole night is absolutely perfect. It makes me realize just how much my siblings are a part of me. I am afraid of facing the unknown without them.

All my life, I have never missed anything. Everyone I have loved, everyone I have needed, they have always been right by my side, or not gone long enough for me not to miss them that terribly. And now, I am going to what seems to be the end of the world, many leagues away from my home. It is going to take a while for me to get used to it all. Not only to get used to Winterfell, but not being in Highgarden.

Oh, I will keep it in my memory. Green fields, seemingly endless. The scent of flowers, roses more than any other. The sound of a harp and a soft voice, singing some foreign song that sounded beautiful, even if I was not familiar with the language. The maze, with all its twists and turns. The tavern nearby, that I will probably never visit again.

Loras, with his judgy eyes but good temper. The best swordsman in Highgarden, with the prettiest curls, and his tendency to get drunk far too easily. His love for music and dancing. And yes, his impeccable sense of style. Even if he annoys me and makes me want to pull my hair out most of the time, I love him to death. I do not want to be away from him.

Margaery, with her beauty, grace, and even her vanity. I will miss her advice just as much as I will miss her being my confidant. A girl, born to be a Queen. I hope that the days and leagues apart will not tear us apart in spirit too. No matter what happens in my life, I will need her by my side. More than I would ever be willing to admit to her.

And Willas. My rock, my anchor, my light in the dark.

I cannot even imagine the day when we will have to part ways. They will have to pry him out of my cold, dead hands.

Even my parents. My mother, smart and kind, but never able to keep up with Grandmother. And Father, kind, but not the brightest man in the world, constantly in Olenna Tyrell's shadow.

I will even miss her. Despite our differences, she has always had my best interest at heart. Whether I'd like to admit it or not, she shaped me to be the person I am today.

I will miss it all, everything and everyone. And there is nothing I can do about it.

The choices I made are behind me. There is nothing I can do to change them, even if I wanted to.

The only thing I can do now is to hold my head up high and march towards the future with pride. Be a Tyrell, be the person I was born me be, and always carry the memories of this place and my childhood here in my heart.

I will keep growing strong. Even in the North, they have winter roses. I had a crown of them, and now I will become one, a winter rose among wolves in the heart of the North.

* * *

 **There we go guys. A bit of info.**

 **1) We WILL see Oberyn again. And the Lannisters, OFC.**

 **2) There will be twists and turns.**

 **3) We won't be in Winterfell for good.**

 **Well, that's it for now. Bye-bye :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**NEW STORY! ~The Lost One~! All you Jon fans, give it a try! :)**

 **Okay, so I'm back! Sorry it took a while :)  
We are in Winterfell! Woo-hoo! I think we're a few chapters away from Robert's visit, so it's safe to say that the comfort of Highgarden is behind us for good. **

**After that season finale, good god, I had to include a *dat ass* joke, I hope you pick up on it! :)**

 **Yup, that's it. Go and check out my other stories if you're suffering from "Power, Pleasure, Pain" withdrawal, you won't regret it! And if you like it, you know what to do: follow, favorite, review! :)**

 **I'll be seeing you in a few chapters! Thank you for your kind reviews and of course, darkwolf76, my wonderful beta! *bows***

* * *

I am running through the halls of Highgarden, laughing as if I had just heard one of the best jokes Tyrion Lannister has to offer. I am laughing and running, looking behind me as I do, knowing that one of my siblings will catch me soon enough. We have played this game since we were children and even now, as four adults, one with a bad leg, we still play it, perhaps more often than proper. We run and we hide, waiting for the others to find us.

I find the game far more fun when playing with people who are just a familiar with the castle as I am. If someone who did not grow up in Highgarden was chasing me, they wouldn't know to open the door that, instead of leading to a room, leads to a well hidden staircase that takes you all the way up to the highest tower. That is, if you do not decide to open a door on the left, right in the middle of the staircase, that will lead you back down.

All of Highgarden is a maze. The garden is a maze and the castle itself is a maze and therefore, it provides an endless source of fun for children and those who still like to pretend they are children.

I laugh as I run down the stairs, holding my skirts up to avoid tripping. After two left turns and one right, I end up in the dark hallway in which I hide in every now and then; not too often, of course; I don't want to become predictable. Following the hallway all the way to its end, I go up the stairs, using my hand to feel along the wall in the growing darkness, so I don't miss a step and fall. The stone wall feels hard and cold against my fingers. In fact, it feels almost _too cold_. Still, I keep going, knowing I don't want to lose this game, possibly the last time I will play it for many years to come, or ever.

I snap awake as my head hits something. The chuckle I hear explains it all; I fell asleep and as the carriage hit a bump in the road, I got jostled and startled from my comfortable slumber, thus giving my older brother a momentary amusement during our monotonous journey.

"It's not funny," I grunt, pulling the blanket draped over me a bit closer to my neck for more warmth. "How is it so cold? We're not even in the North." I mumble, still half asleep.

"We're not that far away from it either," Willas tells me. "The farther north we travel, the colder it will get. That's simple logic, Clara." he chuckles arrogantly.

"I hate cold." I pout at him.

"You'd better start getting used to it, dear sister," he teases me. "Your new home will be colder than this. But with your dashing betrothed to keep you warm, I'm sure you'll grow to love it soon enough."

"Remind me again, why are you the one escorting me to my new home, and not Loras?"

"Because I am the heir of House Tyrell. And your favorite sibling." He adds. I don't even have to open my eyes to know he is wearing his signature smirk again.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that if I were you. Loras is far less arrogant."

"Why are you so miserable, Clara?" Willas asks. This time around, I did open my eyes to look at him. And thankfully, this time around, he is not smirking. "We have been on the road for days and I don't think I've seen you smiling once." He points out, frowning in concern. As much as I hate to admit it, I know he's right.

"Well, we are on the road," I offer, glancing around our carriage. "A chill has settled in my bones, the hard seats are making my behind sore, I am not getting enough sleep. I think I am allowed to be a bit grumpy."

"One would think you'd feel a bit more excited, seeing that you will soon see your future betrothed again."

"This has nothing to do with Robb," I sigh, sitting up, knowing that this debate has went on for long enough I won't fall asleep again for a good while. "If anything, it has to do with what I am leaving, not to what I am going to. Every league we travel, the colder we get, the more unfamiliar the landscape becomes, just reminds all the more that I'm farther from home, and that it will never be my true home again," I tell him. I thought he knew that by now. I did not keep it a secret. The last two weeks have been filled with me complaining about having to leave Highgarden. None of my displeasure comes from what lays ahead of me, but from what I've had to leave behind.

"Well, let me give you a piece of advice," he speaks up, smiling at me. "When you start missing Marg, remember just how annoying she can get with her "me, me, me" talk. And when you miss Loras, remember how annoying his pouting face is. It should help you." he finishes and I chuckle at his comment. I have to admit, they can annoy me quite a bit, when they act in such a way, but that won't stop me from missing them.

"And what about you?" I ask. "You are my favorite sibling, after all. What do I do when I miss you?"

"Oh darling, you won't be missing me for a long time," he laughs. "And when you do, I am sure you will think of something incredibly annoying about my personality that will do the trick. Besides, you will have a husband to keep your mind off of us. I doubt you will be thinking of us when you're by his side and getting to know his family."

"Thank you for reminding me of that. Seriously, thanks a lot."

"Do you even care for him?" Willas asks. At first, I thought he was joking but now, looking at his face, I realize that he truly wants to know. This conversation has taken serious turn that I would rather avoid.

"As much as I can care for a man I will have an arranged marriage with," I mumble. Why keep it a secret? It never has been a secret. Even Robb knows it! I am not in love with him. I think he is a good man and I consider him a friend. A friend I find very attractive. The way I see it, it is not just my family that struck gold with this marriage, as far as arranged marriages go. I have actually met my betrothed before the wedding, and I actually like him! I am luckier than most and I will not take that lightly. "I still need to get to know him. I like what I've learned, but I know… next to nothing."

"He did seem nice enough," Willas shrugs. "And he seems to be quite taken with you, which is always a good thing. I am sure he will treat you right. And that you will grow to love him someday."

"I think you're right," I nod my head. "It doesn't feel impossible. When I imagined it before, it seemed like something that could never happen. But again, I still have a long way to go before I get to that." I tell him. _If_ I ever get to that, but at this point, I can't think in such a way, for good reason.

"I got the impression that you liked him well enough. Although, I was positive that you were going to choose the bastard of Winterfell." He chuckles.

"I beg your pardon?" I ask in shock.

"Why so surprised?" Willas laughs at me. "He is the type you tend to go for."

"Tend to go for?" I repeat, looking at him in wonder. "What are you talking about? I don't tend to go for anything. I never even liked a man before I met Robb. Willas, what have you been drinking?"

"Only water, unfortunately," he tells me, making me roll my eyes. Of course, _of course_ he was going to focus on _that_ after everything I have just said! "Oh Clara, I know you. You are not the calm type. You do not like routine; you do not want a boring life. Falling for a lord's bastard, a handsome and brooding one at that, would be the adventure of a lifetime for you. You can't really hold it against me for thinking that you were going to go that way. You must find him attractive. Have you seen his behind? It's hard to miss." he adds.

"Seeing as how well you've described him, I wonder if it is you that finds him attractive," I mumble, ignoring his roaring laughter. "I don't know if it has escaped your notice, but Jon and I didn't really talk much, Willas. You remember that night at the tavern; he said he preferred Margaery." I remind him.

"And what was he going to say? That he prefers his brother's bride to be?"

"I was no one's bride to be at that moment." I point out.

"Oh please, we all knew that he was going to ask you for your hand in marriage." He laughs it off.

"Did you? Because I didn't. It would have been nice to have been informed of it," I mumble, looking away from him. "Why are we even having this conversation? I am promised to Robb. I don't like Jon in that way. Besides, grandmother would have died and then come back from the dead, just to strangle me if I fell for the bastard son of Eddard Stark and not his trueborn heir." I add.

"Yes, and you care so deeply about what our grandmother thinks." He laughs.

"You'd be surprised," I sigh. I shouldn't have said that. Despite what Margaery has told me before, about my family knowing my weaknesses… some weaknesses not even the family should know about. "It truly does not matter now. I am to marry his brother and I am more than happy about it."

"Yes, you are dying of joy," Willas points out. I could say it again, remind him that my momentary misery has nothing to do with Robb or our betrothal, but I would just be wasting my words. As smart and kind as he can be, Willas can also be a proper ass when he wants to.

"Say what you will, Clara, but running away with a lord's bastard and starting a life for yourself in the countryside sounds a lot like something you'd do. You have always been the biggest rebel out of all of us."

"Says the one who's been fucking Dornish girls," I mumble. Oh Gods. I regret it the moment the words leave my mouth. I look at him, but he says nothing. He still has that smirk on his face. As careless as my words were, he doesn't seem to be too affected by them. "Apologies, brother. For a moment there, I forgot that unlike women, men can do whatever they want." I add with a slightly bitter tone. I really should learn when to shut up.

"If you want to run away with Eddard Stark's bastard, it's still not too late." He bites back.

"Stop calling him that!" I snap. Now, this surprised him. I can't recall a time when I properly yelled at him. I think this might be the first time I have done so. I feel the guilt growing in me, but I know I can't back down. I have a point. He should not insult him. Not Jon, not any other bastard in the world. It is one thing to call them for what they are and another to use it as an insult, and I am fairly certain Willas was using it as an insult.

"You do know I don't hate the boy?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at me. "I was only joking. Seven Hells, what has gotten into you?"

"I told you before Willas, I am not in the mode for jokes and jests," I sigh. I couldn't have made it any clearer to him that I am not in the mood for that kind of conversation. "We are going North. We are going to their home. I am promised to Robb Stark and I will marry him. The last think I want is to have someone hear you teasing me about falling for his brother. Seven Hells Willas, I might be cranky, but you really need to learn when to shut up."

"I am sure you will be kind enough to teach me, " he tells me in a low voice.

For a very long time, both of us were silent. I don't know if he is angry with me or if he simply has judged that it would be smarter to avoid conversation for a while. Regardless, he thankfully remains silent.

I am bothered by his words. It is one thing to have Oberyn teasingly whispering those things into my ear, in the privacy of my own home, and another to have Willas banging on about it on the road, where anyone could hear. It is not a topic I wish to dwell on. The last think I want or need is to have people spreading false rumors about me. Normally, I do not care about what people say. If I did, I would have behaved much differently. If they talked about me, my personality or my dresses, my actions or my words, I wouldn't pay them any attention. But if they are saying things that might potentially ruin my future marriage and the alliance our families have made? That is a problem.

Not to mention Jon. What kind of horrible things would happen to him and how would he be treated if someone accused him of harboring affections for, or even worse, having some sort of an affair with the future wife of his brother! It is bad enough that he has to live with a burden of being a bastard. I do not want to be the one that places more burdens on his shoulders.

"How many more days until we get there, do you think?" I ask, after an excruciatingly long silence, hoping that he would see this question for what it is; a peace offering. As much as I think I am right, I do not want to fight with him, especially not when he's the only family that is by my side now.

"Well, we have been traveling for nine days," he sighs. Gods, it seems like it's been longer than that. At least he would talk to me. "I'm afraid we have at least nine more days to go, if not a few more."

"How many times do you think we will manage to get into a fight before we get there?"

"More than we'd like, probably." He tells me, smiling. I smile back at him and in a matter of seconds, we both start laughing. Gods, I can only hope we don't end up killing one another.

* * *

"You look like shit," I hear Willas say from behind me and I turn around to give him a look, watching as he raises his arms in defense. "I am not insulting you, but… you really don't look good."

"I feel like shit too," I mumble, feeling too tired to deal with him right now. But, he is probably right. I can only imagine what my hair is looking like. And I do not even want to think about the dark circles below my eyes. It seems to me that they have become a permanent feature of my face. "We're not close enough for me to worry about how good or bad I look. Only you and our people can see me, and frankly, I believe all of you have seen me looking worse than I do now."

"Doubt it," Willas admits, grimacing. "But you are right, we still have a few days before we reach Winterfell." He tells me. A few days. It feels like we have been traveling for months, not 16 days. And we are not even close to it! Yes, we are closer to Winterfell than we are to Highgarden, but still.

"Perhaps I should have asked Dickon Tarly to marry me. At least our journey would be shorter."

"And your lifespan too, probably, because you'd die from misery or boredom," Willas adds, making me snicker in response. He does have a point; family life with Dickon Tarly does not sound like something I would particularly enjoy. "It will all be over soon enough. And then, you can enjoy married life."

"Soon enough?" I laugh. "Are you kidding me? We will be at Winterfell soon enough, that much is true, but Gods only know when our family will make the time to travel all this way. Do you truly think Olenna Tyrell would put herself through a journey like this, just to see _me_ get married? Margaery ,yes. You and Loras, perhaps. Me? I really don't think so."

"Well, you do have to wait for our family before you get married." Willas points out.

"Do I?" I chuckle. "I don't see it. I just want to get it over with. You are my big brother and the heir of House Tyrell. You can be the one who gives me away, no one at Winterfell would have a problem with that. And if our parents or our dearest Grandmother had a problem with it, well, they would just have to bare it. By then, I will be another man's problem to manage, under another man's protection." I shrug.

"You are not seriously considering that, are you?" Willas asks me through laughter, not at all taking me seriously.

"Not that long ago, you suggested I was the type of person to run away with a lord's bastard and start a new life in wilderness. If that's what you truly think of me, is it really so difficult for you to imagine me getting married without our extended family there to witness it?" I ask.

It doesn't make any sense to me. They should have gone with us. It would have been easier. We would all arrive at once, I would get married, we would celebrate for a day or two, and then they would be on their way back to Highgarden. That's how it should be. They still haven't left Highgarden, nor will they, at least not before Willas and I spend a few days in Winterfell, to make the betrothal official. Now, if I remember my mathematics lessons, and I unfortunately do, that would mean we will have to wait at least a month before we get married.

What in the world am I supposed to do in Winterfell for an entire month before we get married? Plan a wedding? That's more Margaery's area than mine. I would agree with anything anyone else suggested, when it comes to planning events and festivities. So long as we have enough food and wine to feel guests ' bellies it is good enough for me. And even if I wanted us to go all out, celebrate for days, I do not need a month to plan it! Besides, I am at his home, with his family. For all I know, his mother will want to organize the wedding herself. Northerners have different gods and traditions than the South. It's whole different world almost.

The more I think, the more I want all of this to be over with. I do not need a large wedding party with hundreds of people attending. I would be happy and content with Willas and Robb's family, along with the two of us. Having my parents and siblings there would be nice, even grandmother, but not necessary.

"You are aware that Grandmother will strangle you in your sleep if she does not attend your wedding, don't you?" Willas asks me, looking at me as if I have lost my mind.

"You are aware that she is facing more than two weeks of traveling?" I ask him.

"Alright, Clara," he shrugs. "Do whatever you want to do. If you want to get married as soon as you arrive to Winterfell, I will be happy to give you away. But bear in mind that weddings are celebrations for family, more than for the couple. If you do it like that, you might end up regretting it. Think about it. And I would suggest you discuss it with your betrothed as well. He does a say in it, after all." he tells me. He has a point. I can plan and plan as much as I want to, but Robb has a say in it as well. I am not sure if he would be willing to risk the wrath of my family, even if it would mostly be directed towards me.

"This is so annoying," I sigh, shaking my head. "The sooner we get to Winterfell, the better. I need to talk to Robb, and then to our family. I hope their ravens are in good shape."

"So do I," Willas chuckles. "Take it slow, alright? You are on edge. I understand that. I am on edge as well. Do not make any final decisions, not before you have had a good night's sleep. If after that you still want to get married as soon as possible, I will give you away and a small number of us will get drunk and worry about Olenna's wrath the day after." He promises.

"I love you, you know that?"

"Of course I do," he beams at me. "But do keep reminding me of that every day." He adds. I punch him on the shoulder as I pass him. I have stretched my legs, gotten some fresh air and as far as I'm concerned, am ready to continue our journey. Seeing as Willas and I are the ones making the call, as soon as he closes the door of our carriage behind us, it starts moving, with the remainder of our men following.

* * *

I am crouching down, holding the skirt of my dress up, so as to not get it dirty, with my bare back turned towards my brother as he was doing his best to lace up my dress.

Our carriage jumps and I barely manage to stop myself from falling directly onto my face, as I use both my hands to lean on the seat in front of me. I almost lose my balance again.

"Bloody Seven Hells!" I snap, angry at whoever decided women should wear a dress, at whoever designed dresses to be so difficult for wearing and at this entire situation in general. Hearing my brother laughing as he struggles to help me, does not help. "Willas, if you ever tell someone about this, I swear, I will cut you with a knife."

"Clara, even if I dared to say it, who would ever be foolish enough to believe me?"

"Shut your mouth and help me," I order him. "Please." I add, not wanting to sound too rude. He is annoying me more than words can say, but he is still my brother and at this point, the only family I have by my side. Not to mention that he is, acting as my unofficial handmaiden for the moment.

It had been my idea. _We don't need to bring a maid with us. It is not a tournament. I can manage on my own. I can dress myself._ Oh, how can I be such a fool? On most days, I am fully capable of dressing myself. In a moving carriage, not so much. If I did not have Willas helping me, I would have been an utter disaster. And Willas is far from a competent helper.

After a horrible month we have endured, our journey is finally coming to an end. Days ago, we crossed the traveled through the Neck, the murky swamp that separates the North from the rest of the Kingdom. And now Winterfell is an hour away at best, hence why I'm struggling so frantically to make myself presentable.

My wariness on the road and the grief I have felt for the home I left behind hadn't left much time for panic before. But now, with such an important meeting just around the corner, I can feel it, slowly closing in and choking me, as my mind asks more questions than I can handle at one time.

Will Robb still want to marry me? What is Winterfell like? Is it always this cold? Does he look the same or has he grown a beard? Did he find another girl and the raven just did not reach us in time? Will his mother like me? Will his sisters like me? Will his brothers like me? Will Jon go back to the brooding, quiet man he was at the beginning or will we continue to make progress in our friendship?

So many questions, none of which I had answers to.

"You know, if Grandmother could see you know, she would be proud." Willas comments.

"Would she now?" I roll my eyes. "And here I thought she thought everything I've ever done was an embarrassment."

"Oh, please," Willas sighs and I do not have to face him to know that he had rolled his eyes. "You, wearing Tyrell colors? Bending over backwards to make yourself pretty for your betothed and his family? But as your brother, I feel obligated to say that your dress is far too revealing for the cold we are in, whether you want to impress or not," he comments. Of course he had something to say about that. "I don't know if you've ever reminded me more of Margaery than you do now. Minus the elegance, of course."

"Thank you for your kind words, brother," I retort dryly. "I don't know what I would do or where I would be if I did not have your kind encouragement," I add, earning a snicker from him. "To tell you the truth, if there ever was a time that I needed to be a bit more like Margaery and a bit less myself, it is today."

"As much as I love our sister, I don't want to hear you say that," he tells me, making me jump in surprise when he pulled the laces of my dress a bit too tightly. "You are your own person, Clara. Pretending to be her will not do you any good. Only Margaery can act like Margaery and get away with it."

"I am not pretending to be her," I correct him. "I am simply taking a page from her book."

"And I am not sure if that is smart. There you go," he announced. "All dressed, in your inappropriate dress." He comments. As always, Willas has to add a half insulting comment.

"It is not inappropriate," I argue as I stand up, holding onto the walls of the carriage as I moved to sit down opposite my brother. "It's fine. Besides, I will have furs over it." I sigh as I plop down onto the seat, looking at him sheepishly. "You don't happen to know how to braid hair, do you?"

"Seven Hells, Clara!" he snaps. "No! I don't."

"I had to ask!" I defend myself. "I knew I should have had Loras join me on this journey."

I did not realize what I have said until it was too late. Willas and I look at one another, both of us pursing our lips to stop ourselves from laughing out loud. Both of us fail.

As useless as he was with braiding hair, Willas does help me. He directs me as I tried to braid my own hair. He tells me if it was too thin or two thick. He suggests I should make the braid fall over my left shoulder and once I am halfway through, he tells me that he was mistaken and that it would be better to make it fall over the right shoulder. I am almost done with the braid when he changed his mind again, earning a kick in his healthy leg; I did not change sides. From what I could remember, when my sister would braid my hair, she would frequently change both style and direction. Thankfully, Willas confirms that I look decent and that was enough.

The dress I am wearing is the one Margaery suggested I should wear. I would have been lost had she not been there to help me. If nothing else, she has always given me the best advice in regards to clothing. She said this dress is revealing enough to remind Robb why he chose me but modest enough to not make his lady mother think that I'm a harlot. The colors are green and gold, showing my Tyrell pride in all its glory. As Willas pointed out, the dress is _not_ made for the North, but I have a dark green fur cloak to keep me warm. I cannot always feel comfortable and be alluring at the same time, according to Margaery.

We are almost there. After such a long journey, we have made it. Not only the destination. I am about to see the castle that I will very likely love in for the rest of my life, for the first time. A new chapter of my life is about to begin and as much as I might be looking forward to it, a part of me would rather stay in the familiar comfort of my old life.

"What do you think of it?" Willas asks as I stare through the window of our carriage, feeling the cold air hitting my face; it is not too cold, but we are still in the long summer. Gods know how cold it will be when winter comes.

"It is so dark," I mumble in response, staring at the landscape before me. The castle does not fail to impress. Even from a distance, it looks magnificent. Not as magnificent as Highgarden, but I know that the Starks, and the Northern lords in general do not share the same love of parading their wealth as we do in the south. I can see the woods surrounding it and the miles and miles of dark green grass. All of it is beautiful, that goes without saying. But it is so dark. "It looks as if the sun forgot to rise." I add.

"No, it's just hiding behind the clouds," Willas corrects me. "It is beautiful, but…"

"It is not Highgarden," I finish his thought. "I know. I suppose I will just need time to get used to it." I reassure myself and my brother at the same time. No one expects such a change to happen overnight anyway. So long as I put some effort into it, I am sure I will grow to love the place, and with each passing day, I will miss Highgarden a little less.

"At least you will be the woman with the best tan." Willas quips and I burst out laughing.

"Now, that _is_ the reassurance I need from you," I chuckle, watching as he blushes and shrugs his shoulders. "We should get ready. We will pass through the gates at any moment."

It is all very formal, just as their arrival was when they came to the Highgarden for our tourney. I do not need to look through the carriage window to know that the entire family has gathered in the castle's courtyard to wait for us. But there is no stairs, no sun, no abundance of flowers and plants.

Willas is the first one to emerge from the carriage, his cane in hand. I hear a few muffled greetings as I try to compose myself and then get out of the carriage myself.

Well, at least I don't fall on my face. That is an achievement all on its own.

I do not have time to look around the courtyard, not with all the eyes I feel on me. I glance at the people before me and then at my brother standing next to me. Of course, Lord Eddard is the one that stands just a little bit in front of everyone else. He greets us with a smile.

"Lord Stark," I bow my head. "It is a pleasure to see you again."

"The pleasure is ours. Lord Willas, Lady Clara, welcome to Winterfell." He announces. I smile at him, moving my gaze to the woman standing next to him. There she is. The one I have feared meeting the most, my future husband's mother and Lord Eddard's wife. Lady Catelyn Stark.

Robb looks so much like her. Same eyes, same hair and thank Gods, same smile. It is not as wide as Lord Eddard's smile, but seeing as I am a stranger to her, it is welcoming enough.

"Lady Clara, Lord Willas, welcome. It is an honor to meet you both." She tells us.

"The pleasure is ours, Lady Stark," I say, nodding my head at her.

"I hope your trip was safe and comfortable." She offers. She reminds me of an older, wiser version of Margaery. I can imagine Margaery greeting her soon to be good daughter in such a way.

"Safe yes, but I am afraid it was not so comfortable." Willas tells her, making all of us chuckle.

"If that is the case, you need your rest. I will introduce you to my family and then you can enjoy a warm bath and a comfortable bed," Lord Eddard reassures us. "Of course, you know Robb. And Bran." He motions to the boys and for the first time, I dare to look at the man who is the reason I am here. He is smiling at me, although I can see that he seems a little bit nervous; that I can understand. I feel the same.

"Robb," I nod with a smile. "Little Lord Bran." I grin at the boy, who is smiling at me and my brother.

"Welcome, Lady Clara." He tells me. I can already imagine the plans going on in his head; which hiding spot should he show me first?

"These are my daughters, Sansa and Arya," Lord Eddard nods in a different direction and I notice the two girls. The older one, Sansa, looks exactly like her mother, only younger. Blue eyes and auburn hair, albeit lighter than Robb's. We nod at each other and she bows her head as my eyes move to the other girl; short and lean, looking as if she has been forced to be here. Which she probably was. I imagine I had the same look on my face when I was younger and my parents forced me to greet guests. She takes after Lord Eddard, looking nothing like her mother, who nudges her, causing the girl to nod her head. I smile, already knowing that I will probably get along with her just fine. "And this is Rickon, our youngest." Lord Eddard points out, slightly pushing the child that is hiding behind him forward.

"Hello there," I smile at the boy, who attempts to hide behind his father's let again. "It is a pleasure to meet all of you. I look forward to getting to know you all." I smile at each of them, letting my eyes linger on Robb for just a moment longer. I look around, searching for Jon, the other Stark I know well, before I realize that he is not a Stark at all. I do not make the same mistake as when I greeted them at Highgarden. I say nothing of Jon and I do not wonder where he is.

"Lord Willas, Lady Clara, we have taken enough of your time," Lord Eddard smiles at both of us. "Our people will take you to your chambers. Take your time, rest as much as you'd like. It is a long journey from Highgarden to here. If you feel rested enough by sun down, we would love for you to join us in the Great Hall for supper. If you need anything, please, do not hesitate to ask for it."

"Thank you, my Lord," Willas tells him, I simply nod my head. "That is much appreciated. We will be happy to join you tonight." Willas promises and with one last series of nods, we part ways, as people approach us and ask us to follow them to the chambers we will be staying in. I smile as I walk away, looking at Robb, who grins back. I could see his chest moving, so I imagine he was chuckling as well.

Reminding myself of my manners, I turn back around and follow the Stark servants with Willas. I do not make five steps in the castle's direction when I see someone off to the side. Even here in the cold North, his hair is so dark, he stands out at once. I notice Jon, leaned on a wall, watching us. I smile widely at him, giving him a small wave, but only get a tight smile in response. I do not take it to heart; I imagine that is the most he could do, with his father's trueborn family so close to us.

"The real question is," Willas speaks up, completely unaware of Jon's presence or our brief interaction. I look up at him as we walk towards the castle. "How will we even notice when the sun sets?" he asks. I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing, but I do not hold back on the punch I aim at his shoulder.

"Stop it," I hiss at him. "Be nice. It's not like you dislike them."

"Oh, I do like them," he reassures me. "I'm just teasing you about the perpetual darkness you will be living with the rest of your life," he chuckles.

"I knew I should have brought Loras instead of you."


	14. Chapter 14

**Here we are guys, let's see how Clara settles in!**

 **Oh, and, off topic, but I kind of have to brag a bit: I MET RICHARD MADDEN ON FRIDAY! I ACTUALLY MET HIM IN THE FLESH and let me tell you, seeing as how most of my stories feature Robb heavily, it was SO WEIRD for me to see him in the flesh after describing him in detail since like… 2014? :D**

 **That's why I've been away for a bit, but I'm back now and writing full speed. I'll have a new chapter up for you soon.**

 **Thank you to my amazing beta, darkwolf76! Go and read her story, Defying Demons. It's brilliant! :)**

 **So, that's it from me. I'm off to write some more. Let me know what you think about this chapter! :)**

 **And don't forget to check out my brand now GOT story - Jon &Rhaenys Targaryen! "The Lost One"! **

* * *

I don't feel comfortable at all. I feel reduced to a shadow of the girl I was in Highgarden.

Highgarden, warm, vivid and green, had been my territory, my place. Among the sunny flowers of my home, I always found it so easy to laugh and giggle, acting all careless and light hearted. I was surrounded with my people, people who know me, grew up around me and accept me despite my faults. I was rose, secure and comfortable among the rich gardens of the Reach, and completely at ease with welcoming the lions, vipers, and wolves in my domain.

Here? I face a cold and grey unknown. I am a single rose perched at the entrance of the wolves den, not quite knowing which would accept me into their pack and which ones would try to snap at me with sharp claws and teeth.

Yes, I am smiling. So far the people here have acted kind, even if it the weather is too bloody cold at times. And yes, I am making small talk, but if Willas was not leading the conversation, they probably would have considered me rude, with how withdrawn I was. Luckily, with my brother taking over the role of the charming Tyrell, I can stare at my plate, play around with the food on it, and frantically wonder how I could dig myself out of the hole I have managed to fall into.

Most of them, I know. Some of them I should try to impress. But I feel… so lost.

"Lady Clara, are you not hungry?" Catelyn Stark asks, snapping me out of my daydream.

"My lady, the food is wonderful," I reply with a small smile, even though I've only eaten one bite of the pie in front of me. "I am still recovering from the journey, I am afraid. My appetite is not at its best."

"Would you like something else to eat?" she inquires, looking genuinely worried. "We could have someone from the kitchens make something different in no time."

"No, my lady," I shake my head. "Thank you for the offer, but I could not eat one more bite tonight. I am sure I will recover my appetite by tomorrow morning."

"If you change your mind, do not hesitate to ask," the older woman tells me kindly.

"Lady Clara, how are you adapting to the weather?" Sansa, the oldest Stark girl asks.

"I do not quite know yet, my lady," I smile at her, earning a few chuckles down the table. "It is not as cold as I expected it to be, not inside the castle at least. All the same, I am glad that that I left behind all my silk dresses in Highgarden; they would have had no use here."

"What kind of dresses do you wear in the South?" Sansa beams, her eyes shining with excitement.

"You would have enjoyed my sister's company, Lady Sansa," I laugh with amusement, amazed at how this girl reminds me of Margaery. I think Sansa is still too young to match my sister's cunning and abilities of manipulation, but she could learn. After all, I did, even if I do not possess have the skill Margaery has. "Well, the material is very thin. And they always have the loveliest colors…"

I am glad that Sansa Stark drew me into a conversation about something I am least somewhat familiar with. Talking to her feels simple. I would much rather talk about girlish things, such as dresses and different hairstyles that are popular in the South, simple topics that I actually know about. I only arrived here this afternoon; I am absolutely not ready for a serious conversation about marriage, alliances or anything of the like.

"Lady Clara, are you tired?" Sansa questions, drawing attention to the two of us. I want to hug the girl, right here and now, knowing she might have just offered me the most perfect chance of escape that would not appear to rude at all. I offer her the slightest of smiles, hoping it will make me look even more tired.

"I am, I am afraid," I nod my head wearily. "Would it be alright if I retired, Lord Stark?" I turn to look at her father. "I need some fresh air and then some sleep. I promise I will be better company once I have had some rest."

"Of course, Lady Clara," the man offers me a understanding smile. "Would you like someone to escort you?"

"No, my lord," I jump up. Darn it! Could I look more eager to leave their presence? I know that Robb would have been the one to offer to escort me and I do not wish to speak to him alone yet. Well, it has little to do with what I want to do. I do not feel ready to speak to him and that is a big difference. "I wish to have some time for myself. By tomorrow morning, I will be fresh and ready to explore Winterfell." I promise.

"Very well, my lady. We bid you all a good night," he tells me and as I stand up, all of them stand up with me, even the daughters. I smile, glancing briefly at all of them, not allowing my eyes to linger on Robb. Back in Highgarden, I would have given him a look and he would have followed me as soon as he could. I do not want to be followed tonight. As I make my escape from the hall, I believe I have evaded him, at least for tonight. The hallway runs in two directions: one towards the courtyard and another one towards the stairs, which would ultimately lead me to my chambers. But I do need some fresh air, that was not a lie.

The air holds a crisp chill, but it doesn't feel completely uncomfortable. It is a nice kind of cold, one that breathes life into you and wakes you from sleep. Of course, if I stand outside for too long, especially only wearing a dress, I probably wouldn't welcome it as I do now. Yet I can afford a few moments of peace out here before I start shaking.

The courtyard is empty, but I hear noise coming from different places; people who live within the castle are all having their suppers or getting ready to sleep after a long day of work. Though, some of them are probably still working, seeing as the Stark family and their guests haven't finished eating, even if I have.

Compared to Highgarden, I would almost call this place serene. As much as I miss all the greenery of Highgarden, the sound of laughter filling the halls, constant excitement and racket around every corner, I can see myself growing to love the peace that surrounds Winterfell.

And even with as calm as it is, I cannot call it boring. I just pray to the Gods that I do not change my mind once the novelty of this new environment wears off. The last thing I want is to consider my future home boring. Peace is better than boredom.

"Lady Clara," I jump up in surprise, startled by the sudden voice. Breathless, I turn around and see Jon Snow, standing just a few feet away from me. "Are you alright? Why are you not in the hall with the rest of them?" he asks, his eyebrows furrowed as he looks at me in confusion.

"I wanted some fresh air," I smile at the man. "Although you scared me to death just now, it is nice to see you again, Jon." I tell him, not pointing out the fact that he had just called me by my title again, even a free he promised not to during our last meeting. It really doesn't matter how many times I point it out I think. No matter what I say, he seems set in his ways.

"It is nice to see you as well, my Lady," he nods to me. "Did you travel well?"

"We did," I nod back. "Why were you not at supper, Jon? I was looking forward to seeing you again, along with the rest of your family." I understand why he was not standing with Lord Eddard's family when we passed the gates of Winterfell. Even if Willas and I could not care less about it, it would be considered inappropriate to have the Lord's bastard son welcoming us to their home. I did not raise any questions then, but this was different. We were not the only ones in the hall. Most of Winterfell's nobility was there as well, simply seated at different tables. Even Theon Greyjoy was there. Why wasn't Jon?

"Lady Stark did not wish to trouble our guests with my presence."

He doesn't even sound bitter, just resigned. His tone makes me angry for him.

"Oh," I mumble, knowing I should say something, but I don't know the right words. Jon's face says it all: he knows I what I don't know how to say, he knows I feel sorry but do not want to throw my pity at him. I imagine he has found himself in a similar situation quite a few times before, having to make others feel better when they should have been trying to make him feel better. "Well, perhaps Lady Stark should have asked before making such a decision, since both of your guests happen to consider you a friend, " I snap before I can stop myself.

"Thank you, Lady Clara, but you need not trouble yourself," he shakes his head.

"No, I really do need to," I say. The more I think about it, the more it bothers me. It is not proper. Even my family, as upright as they are, managed to welcome him into our home as an honored guest, he sat with the rest of us at feasts and festivities, no different than anyone of noble birth. If House Tyrell can treat a complete stranger like that, how can House Stark be so disrespectful towards their own blood? Bastard or not, he is a member of their family. "I will speak to Lord Stark about this tomorrow. Lady Stark as well, if need be. You are our friend and we want you to be with us."

I know Willas would not mind me speaking on his behalf as well, even if he did not have a chance to develop some special bond with Jon. Willas knows very well what is my stance on bastards and those that are not of noble birth, especially if I consider them friends: I do not care. I would go up to Lady Stark right this moment, had I known her better. I only know her husband, and even him not very well, which is why I will ask him about Jon tomorrow. I will not demand anything. That would certainly not gain me any favor with my future family.

"Lady Clara, please," Jon's eyes widen as he I really mean what I say. "Do not do that. You will marry Robb soon enough and become a part of this family. I don't want you to have a bad relationship with Lady Stark because of me."

"But it is wrong."

"And you can't make it right, my lady," he shakes his head. "This is simply the way it is."

I want to contradict him, but protesting will not change anything, really. I can't change the way people look at bastards, not every single person in the whole of Westeros. Insisting that he sit with us would not make his life better. If anything, it could make it worse.

"So, I say nothing and talk with you only in hallways and corridors?" I ask in irony and to my complete surprise, he nods his head. Gods, how difficult this must be for him? And he seems such a kind man. "Very well. I will say nothing. On one condition."

"Condition?" he raises an eyebrow.

"Yes," I confirm. "Seven hells Jon, just call me by my bloody name."

Confusion turns into a smile and a smile turns into laughter. Could I have finally convinced the brooding bastard of Winterfell to put his formalities aside?

"Clara," he nods his head, smiling down at me. "Do you want me to escort you to your chambers? You are not dressed for this weather, you shouldn't stay out in the cold for too long."

"I am not cold at all, but I am tired. I should be leaving," I agree with a sigh, wondering if I will ever get a proper rest. "I can find my own way, but thank you for the offer, Jon. Have a good night." We exchange smiles and with one last nod, I turn around and make my way back to the castle.

As far as shortcuts and secret passages go, Winterfell comes up lacking, compared to Highgarden. Perhaps I only need more time to find some hidden doors or staircase, but Starks seem fairly simple. If their ancestors were anything like Lord Eddard, I can see why the corridors are straight and simple. Our guests were getting lost even a few days into their visit, and I find my guest chambers on the first try.

I smile when I realize that in my absence, someone has lit a fire and filled the tub up for me. I dip my hand in the water, to see if it is still warm. I smile when I see that it is. Not wasting any more time, I take off my clothes and slip into the bath, hoping I will not fall asleep.

It is a good start. A solid start. They all acted nice and I acted cordial enough to make a good first impression, I think. Lady Catelyn seemed to like me well enough, but only time will tell if we will truly get along. Little Bran seemed happy to see me and Lord Eddard acted as kind as ever. Even Jon was friendly, even if I wish we have talked under different circumstances. The only issue was Robb.

He smiled at me whenever our eyes met. I'd created the issue, not him. I practically ignored him the whole day because I was nervous, yet I don't know why.

We got along so well at Highgaden. During my journey here, I was had looked forward to seeing him. But then, when I had finally come face to face with him again, I could barely meet his eyes. I simply don't know what to say to him, how to start the conversation. It can go two ways from here, since we were not alone at all today. I will either feel more comfortable once we have some time to speak in private, or I will feel even worse, unable to form one coherent sentence.

I do not have energy to move, or really worry anymore at this point. I lazily throw on a nightgown and walk around the chambers, blowing out the candles. Then, something blue catches my eye and I do a double take.

I did not see it before, but looking at it now, I don't know how I could have missed it. On the side table next to my bed stands a small vase full of sweet smelling blue flowers. As I walk towards the table, I realize that they are blue winter roses.

They hadn't been here this afternoon.

A note sits next to the vase, a note with unfamiliar, yet clear handwriting.

I know it's not a crown, but I hope you like them. Robb

I can feel the heat on my cheeks as I smile at the note. Even when he is acting charming and kind, he can also make jests. Even at his expense, apparently.

It's impossible not to smile, not when I have just got a confirmation that this betrothal is the farthest thing from a mistake. I need to talk to him tomorrow. He deserves a proper thank you, after all.

* * *

"Why are you so upset about it?" Willas ask me as she sprawls over my bed, looking at me like I am a child, throwing a pointless tantrum. "He doesn't seem to be upset by it."

"He doesn't seem to be upset by it?" I ask in disbelief as I stop combing my hair, leaving the comb dangling in the tangled ends. "Willas, are you serious? Are we even talking about the same person? He is bothered by it and has every right to be. I would feel bothered by it too! Robb considers him his brother, you've seen that. And Lord Stark hasn't treated him badly, not when I have been around. Which means Lady Catelyn must have kept him from the feast. And I am upset by it for more than one reason. For one, I am going to marry his brother. Is he not going allowed at his own brother's wedding ceremony just because it would be too insulting for the lords and ladies in attendance? Must my betrothed's brother miss out on our wedding because simply because of a woman's petty grudge? Gods only know how many times they have wronged him. Or should I say, she?"

My first impressions of Lady Catelyn had been nothing but good. She seemed like such a lovely, kind woman, a woman who would raise the kind of man that Robb is. Yet having heard what I heard last night, I have to question whether my initial impressions had been correct or not. Selective kindness. Fake kindness, even. I grew up surrounded by it, though I'd luckily never been the actual target. I have, admittedly, even practiced it myself. Can I blame her for something I have done as well?

But I have not harbored malicious intent towards those I do not like. Jon had not gone into details but, frankly, he didn't have to. I could see it all on his face. Not to mention that he had not acted surprised at not being allowed to join us for supper. It's good he didn't go into details. Gods only know how I'd react if he did.

"Her actions are not evil, Clara." Willas sighs. Yet again, I feel like an immature child.

"I agree that evil might be a strong word, but that doesn't excuse her unkindness, Willas," I snap. "Why would anyone take such anger out on a child? And it's not only her. Everyone is like that. 'This one's a bastard, he's not worthy.' I don't understand how people can act so narrow minded. Especially when it is not the child's fault, in any shape or form. If she truly needs to take out her anger on someone, she should blame Lord Stark. He's the one who impregnated another woman and then brought the babe home to raise. And Lord Stark might just be the kindest man I've ever met. Whatever mistakes he's made, I am positive that he has done what he can to make up for it. She shouldn't act so petty and take it out on Jon. He did nothing to wrong her."

"I'd love to see if you'd talk like that if your husband returned home with another woman's son." Willas tells me, raising his eyebrow at me. I should have known he'd say something like that.

"I would never take it out on a child, I promise you that," I say, brushing off his jab. I know who I am, I know what I would do. I would never let a child suffer because of my husband's inability to honor his wedding vows. "I would take it out on the husband."

"You'd make his life a living hell, wouldn't you?" Willas laughs.

"Probably," I admit with a shrug. "I doubt I will ever have to deal with that though. Robb doesn't seem like the type of man who would go around and bed every willing woman."

"And his father does?" he asks. Damn it, he has a point!

"Well, if my husband does that, I will make him regret the day he even thought about laying with another," I say with a shrug. "I doubt I would actually dedicate my life to making his miserable, but I would never forget it. I would not take it out on an innocent child, however. And before any of that happens, I will do my best to stop such thoughts from even crossing his mind." I add.

" _It's not only about getting into his bed, it's about making him want only you in it the rest of his days,"_ Oberyn had told me. " _You will have to push it until the point when he wants to lock you in the room and never let you leave. Us, men… our eyes tend to wander, as well as our passions. We see a beautiful woman and we already imagine what it'd be like to be inside her, to make her scream our name. We see a beautiful woman and we are goners! As good as dead! But at times, a woman comes into a man's life and changes it all. He still notices those beautiful women around him. Oh, of course he does. He sees them all. But the moment his mind wanders to what it would be like to be between her legs, he realizes has another, waiting for him. A woman that is already his alone and will be for good. The rest of them pale in comparison to the beauty that already shares his bed. In order to become that woman, you need to act… funny, charming, captivating, with just the right amount of playfulness both in your words and voice. And your hips need to move in all the right ways."_

How I plan to make that into reality is still a mystery to me. I might have the character traits needed and I do know how to make a man squirm with my humor, but I have no idea how to move my hips. It is not something I can learn either. I suppose I do know, in theory, but theory and reality are very different. That I will have to deal with once we reach the point when there is no going back. It's too soon for that now.

"I just hope you're not in over your head, Clara," Willas sighs, and this time around, he looks at me in worry, not in disapproval and wonder. "You can't fight someone else's battles, and even if you could, you shouldn't. If Jon had not stood up for himself after all these years, why should you do it in his stead, risking a bad start with the woman that will soon be your good mother? That is between them and you should not meddle into it. You will not change the way Westeros works with one verbal confrontation."

"I wasn't going to confront anyone," I mumble, feeling defeated. I feel defeated and I didn't even start the battle! "I was just planning to ask if Jon could join us tonight, seeing as he ate with all of us at Highgarden." I explain. I wasn't going to charge into a room and demand for Jon to be there. I'm not an idiot! I would have done it in an elegant, unassuming way. I'm not sure if that would save me from Lady Catelyn's wrath, but I was never going to confront her on it.

"I think you should keep your mouth shut on this one, Clara," he tells me as he sits up. "You are going to live in the same keep as this woman and work closely with her for many, many years. And how she sees you is more important than how Jon sees you."

"I haven't formed my opinions based on whether or not Jon likes me," I tell him. "Nor do I form them so that someone else likes me. Catelyn, Jon, Robb, anyone. I just can't change who I am. I can adapt, but I can't change who I am and what I believe. It is not about them, it is about fairness, or lack thereof."

"I have told you what I think and I rest my case," he lifts his arms in surrender. "You do what you think is best. Just bear in mind that we are not here for a social visit. You won't be able to run back to safety of Highgarden, Clara. You have, very literally, entered the wolves' den and are expected to become one of them. The pack needs to like you. Now, you will have to decide if you want the favor of an alpha she-wolf, or of the runaway pup."

I don't like his analogy. "If you speak in such a way, what the hell is a rose supposed to do?" I ask.

"Grow strong."

"You just wanted an excuse to say that, didn't you?" I ask, watching as he grins.

"Yeah," he admits. "It was right there, it needed to be said!" he defends himself as I laugh and shake my head at him. How can my brother could be intelligent and dumb at the same time is still a mystery to me.

* * *

"Lady Sansa, how far away is this Godswood from Winterfell?" I ask, doing my best to hide my lack of enthusiasm for the walk. I enjoy Sansa's company, but as we keep talking, I can't help but think that she would get along with Margaery better than she ever would with me. Not to mention that I do not feel like taking a long walk.

I see how beautiful the forest is. I grew up in a field, not a forest. The nature around Winterfell has a ruggedness I'm not used to, but it is beautiful all the same. The trees are different; taller, wider and stronger, built to endure winter. Those we have back in Highgarden would snap like twigs, under the harsh northern winds.

I remember Jon saying that it is a different kind of beauty, and I could see it now. At first, I was tired and mildly uninterested, but I can see now what he meant. There is wildness here, a wilderness I have never seen before. Highgarden has an ordered beauty and Sunspear possesses a certain… intrigue. Wintefell has a rugged, wild beauty to it. But as beautiful as it is, I am not in the mood for exploration. But I can't say that to Sansa.

"It's not too far, Lady Clara, I promise," the girl smiles at me as she pulls me by my hand. "It is beautiful, the best sight Winterfell has to offer."

"Very well, then," I relent, taking a deep breath. "Let's see it."

"Sansa!" we both jump at the sudden shout. We know immediately who called out to her, since Robb is marching our way. And he doesn't look too happy. "I have been looking for you for ages! You can't just skip your lessons with Septa to run around the woods. This is something that Arya would do, but not you."

The beautiful red head bows her head in shame. "I'm sorry Robb, I just wanted to show Clara the Godswood."

"I did not know, Robb," I speak up, knowing I'd have to stand up for the girl, just like I stood up for little Bran back in Highgarden, when Jon was the one asking questions. "I wanted to see your Godswood and did not give Lady Sansa a chance to refuse me. Lady Sansa, I will not trouble you any longer. You can go to your lessons and I will find the Godswood on my own." I smile at her.

"Theon will escort you back to the castle," Robb tells his sister just as I notice Theon making his way through the bushes, nodding in agreement. I am about to speak up when Robb turns my way. "You want to see the Godswood, don't you? I will show it to you then."

Really, I want to be locked up in a warm room with a book in my hand, but…

"Thank you," I smile at him. It has only been a matter of time before I ended up alone with him. I might as well just accept it. After all, I still like him. "But please tell me that it is close, because all I can think about is how long it will take me to get back." I admit, making him laugh.

"It is close," he nods his head. "And I have a horse with me, so you will not have to walk, my lady."

"Ah, you Starks," I sigh, rolling my eyes. "I'm away from you for about a month and you all forget that we are friends. Well, friends and betrothed." I correct myself.

"I believe they will make it official tonight." he tells me. I had thought so myself. Even if everything had been settled while we were still at Highgarden, they had wanted to wait for my arrival to Winterfell. I had feared that such space of time would give my Grandmother time to change her mind, but after tonight, it will be too late.

Then again, it is not unheard of for betrothals to be broken. It still will not be set in stone, not until we say our vows. Thinking of that gives me no ease.

"I imagine the wedding will be here?" I ask.

"In Winterfell? I believe so."

"No, I meant the Godswood," I elaborate. "It would be foolish to travel South again, having just traveled here. My family will come here for the wedding, if they wish to do so. Our fathers decided on that."

"Godswood?" Robb asks with a small smile and I nod. "When my mother married my father, he was at war. I was born in Riverrun, not here. After the war was over, she traveled here with me in her arms and by the time she got here, father already had a small sept made for her. It's a small one, but it is made for her, since she was raised in the faith of the Seven. As were you. I thought you would want to marry in a sept." He adds.

"When a woman marries a man, she takes his name. She takes his name, she belongs to his house and he cloaks her, putting her under his protection. If I am to take your name, why should we marry in my faith?" I ask. I see a smile creep onto his face and finally, I feel comfortable. The anxiety that I have felt since I arrived has disappeared. Well, perhaps not completely, but it has simmered down at least. "Also, Robb, I did not spend my childhood praying to any Gods. I was playing with my siblings and learning how to curse. Giving the Seven up would not cause me any trouble. I'll gladly take your faith as well as your name."

"If that is what you wish," Robb grins at me. "Well, I suppose that we will be married here, then." He says, pointing in front of us. I have been too focused on his face to notice our surroundings.

If I was speaking, I would have stopped, mid-sentence. We have walked into the very center of the Godswood. And it has to be one, if not the, most beautiful place I have ever seen. My mouth drops when I see the large, bone white tree, with leaves the color of a blood-orange. It looms over a large, dark pool of water, with a face carved into its trunk.

It is as beautiful as it is frightening. I do not feel as if I belong here. I do not feel welcome. I am a stranger, a stranger of a different faith and this mysterious, nameless god doesn't recognize me. I feel the strong need to run out of the Godswood and not come back.

But it is such a breathtaking sight that I can't turn away.

Jon was absolutely right. It does have wild kind of beauty.

"I," I start speaking, only to realize that I do not know what to say. How do you describe a sight that overpowers every word you have ever known? Beautiful? No, it is not good enough. Breathtaking? Closer, but still not good enough. Majestic and magical? Not good enough. "I… I couldn't think of a better place to marry."

Yes, that is a good description. A place where I will give up my old life and start a new one. A place where I will become a Stark, a member of their family. A place where I say farewell to the Tyrell rose and become a wolf, a Stark. Clara Stark.

"Are you certain?" he asks, looking troubled. "You were…"

"Robb," I interrupt him, raising my hand to caress his face. "I am certain. It is beautiful here. I am certain. So… do shut up." I smirk when he starts laughing.

As he leans down to press his lips to mine, I chuckle, realizing that I actually wanted him to do that.

How in the Seven Hells… I was afraid to being alone with him, and now I can't wait for him to kiss me? Gods, this man is going to make me question everything I have ever known!

As he breaks the kiss and pulls away, his arm goes around my shoulders and he pulls me closer so that I am leaning on him. He looks over the Godswood around us and smiles.

"We'll be good. You and I."

"I think so too."

I like this. I like the way his arms fit around me in a loving way. It isn't passion, it is more than that.

Oberyn can talk about passion as much as he likes. Nothing will ever carry more meaning than a unexpected hug, followed by a honest smile.


	15. Chapter 15

**Here we go guys, here's another one!**

 **I have been struggling with a massive writer's block BUT I think I've managed to defeat it. I hope I will have a new chapter for you soon!  
Until then, I hope you like this chapter! Don't forget to let me know what you think! :)**

* * *

We knock down a few jars as my back collides with a shelf, but I really don't care and neither does he. With his lips on mine and his hands gripping my waist, I wouldn't care if Winterfell was under attack, so of course I don't care that we are knocking things to the ground while kissing in the shed.

I have never felt anything like this. It's like… all thought leaves my mind the moment he kisses me. All that is right, all that is wrong, everything… none of it matters anymore. All of it just leaves me and all I can focus on is how soft his lips are and how amazing his arms feel around my body.

I know, somewhere deep down, that I should act smarter than this. I know I should not be doing this. I know that at any moment, someone might walk in and see us, thus ruining my reputation for good. I know all of it, but it is all in the back of my mind right now. Now, all that matters is him.

I should thank the Gods for giving Robb the ability to think even in situations like this. He is the one who stops the kiss, pulling away from me before placing his forehead against mine.

"This is torture," he mumbles in a heavy breath. "This is pure torture."

"I know," I agree, raising my hand to push the curls away from his face. "I hate rules."

"I hate them too," he sighs before kissing me again. Each time we kiss, it feels as if we are pushing away this invisible barrier. And each time we push that barrier, it feels as if we are pushing it too far. One of these days, we might just end up pushing it off the cliff, and I can only imagine what my grandmother would do if I caused a scandal. Robb must have thought the same because he pulls away at just the right time. "Soon enough, we won't have to hide in sheds and stables," he supplies in a hopeful tone.

"The day can't come soon enough." I chuckle, knowing my face must be changing colors.

It really is unexplainable. I feel afraid of this connection between us just as much as I welcome it. It doesn't feel wrong, in fact, it feels more right than anything I have ever done in my life. It feels as if this is the way it always should have been for me and him. It feels right but it is also unfamiliar. I… I don't know what to do with it, how to act. It is a level of attraction I have never felt before and I am still trying to figure out what to make of all these jumbled emotions.

I have found men attractive before. Seven Hells, Oberyn is passion in a human form. I'm not blind; I know very well how attractive he was. Still, I've never felt for him what I feel now. It's different with Robb. It isn't simply me appreciating his good looks. It's more about how when he puts his hands on my body, I never want him to take them away.

But he must. He has to take them away and keep them to himself, because if we do not stop, we will cause a massive scandal. We might be betrothed, but nothing is set in stone before the wedding, so we have to wait.

"We're not helping ourselves if we keep sneaking around." Robb shakes his head ruefully.

"You're the one who pulled me by the hand," I remind him, smirking. My heart was beating so fast when he grabbed me by the hand, pulled me in the shed, and started kissing me. "You carry all the blame here, Robb."

"You should stop me, in the future," he chuckles, still having trouble breathing. "I can't guarantee I'll always be rational when it comes to you."

"I know," I agree. "But I doubt I will be rational enough either the next time you kiss me." I laugh.

"Maybe we should have Jon or Theon following us around, preventing moments like these from happening?" he suggests. When he starts laughing, I know he is laughing at the horrified expression on my face. Having Jon or Theon with us at all times is the worst idea I have ever heard in my life.

"How about we just act responsible?" I counter, pulling myself away from him in order to fix his shirt and hair. Whenever we kiss, his hair ends up a mess. I can't control my fingers. "We will keep ourselves under control and wait for my family to get here. Once we are married, we can do whatever the hell we like." I smile when he grins down at me. I feel bad for reassuring him about something I feel so uncertain about. My family will get here and we will get married, but Gods only know when that is going to happen. It will take them weeks to get to Winterfell, and they haven't even started preparing themselves for such a journey. Just now, it feels as if it might take them months. And I am not sure if Robb and I can wait for such a long time. This whole thing is getting out of control.

"You have a point," he agrees. "Let's get back outside before someone notices we're gone. I'll leave first, and you step out a few minutes after," he tells me and with one last kiss, he walks away from me and out of the shed, closing the door behind him. I wait for a decent amount of time to pass before I emerge, not wanting anyone to see us sneaking around together. Besides, I needed to sort out my thoughts first.

Taking a deep breath, I step outside and as soon as I turn around after closing the door behind me, I am met with the narrowed eyes of the youngest Stark girl, Arya.

The way she looks at me makes me feel like she knows exactly why I was hiding away.

"Arya," I smile at her, hoping she is not as smart as I think she is. "What are you up to?" I ask.

"I think I should be asking you that." she tells me, raising her eyebrows at me. The girl is ten years old and she already knows how to call one's bluff. I wish I was more like that when I was younger.

Alright, the only way I can fix this is if I make it into a game. Children love games. And children like Arya love games that make them feel as if they are breaking rules. I drop my casual act and show how nervous I really am. I even exaggerate my anxiety a little bit.

"Alright, Arya, please don't tell anyone," I say, crouching down so that our eyes are leveled. "Please. It's wrong and… just please don't tell anyone. It'll be a secret. Between Robb, you and me?"

The moment I say the word "secret" her eyes light up. She is a little troublemaker, just like I was at her age. It takes one to know how to deal with one, without them ever suspecting it. Arya might be smart and even a bit cunning, but she's also just a child. And children happen to love secrets. At least when they are in on them.

"I won't tell anyone." she promises and I pretend to be relieved. It's working.

"Not even Sansa?" I ask, taking advantage of fact that she and her sister don't get along; if Sansa doesn't know anything about it, Arya will consider the secret all the more precious. I wonder if my parents and Grandmother played such tricks on me and my siblings when we were younger. I imagine they did, and we never even realized it. Well, I did learn from the best.

"Not even Sansa. Cross my heart." She beams up at me.

"I knew I could trust you," I smile, knowing I've won the battle with just one sentence. "Now, let's go and do something fun, shall we?" I suggest, smiling as I stand up and the girl grabs my hand.

I do not wish to jinx myself, but so far, I have been doing an outstanding job with the Starks. I thought that Lord Eddard liked me well enough back and Highgarden, and he continues to here. Bran still very much enjoys running around the courtyard with me. I bond with Sansa during our walks, talking about dresses and hairstyles. Sansa is very much a girly girl and while I do have a rebellious streak in me, I can talk about anything and everything. Arya, on the other hand, has a rebellious streak like my own, and we bond naturally. I am caught somewhere in the middle of their two personalities. I suppose I am too old, compared to them. I am not as willing to run around in dirt as I used to be, no more than I am still dreaming about handsome princes coming and rescuing me from danger. But by some miracle, both girls like me.

Robb, well, I don't have to wonder at all whether or not he likes me. Rickon, his youngest brother, still acts very shy around me, but with each passing day, I notice him standing a bit closer to me than he did the day before. Jon is Jon, kind and distant as ever. I have reached the conclusion that it will always be that way between us, though I would have liked to be closer.

I worry most about how my relationship will develop with Lady Catelyn. I had prepared myself for the judgmental eyes of my betrothed's mother, ready to be scrutinized for every little detail, not that I blame her. I imagine I too will behave in such a way when I meet my son's future wife. If I ever have any sons, that is. All of mothers watch, all of them judge and all of them believe that no girl is good enough for their little boy.

I did notice her scrutiny. Luckily for me, I did not give her much to scrutinize. She kept her distance over the first few days, being polite and kind, but not overly friendly and welcoming like her husband was. It was on the fourth day of our stay in Winterfell that I ended up being left alone with her.

And she acted very nice. She had been kind, talkative and less judgmental than she was the days before. She liked me. She liked me well enough to allow for her son to marry me. I had passed the rest of seemed.

Even Winterfell is truly growing on me! No, it is not Highgarden but…

"Arya, where are you taking me?" I ask, worried by the look on her face which tells me she is up to no good, as she pulls me by the hand across the courtyard. "Arya?"

"We're going to watch the boys as they train!" she chuckles.

"Arya…" I scold her, shaking my head. That is the last thing I want to do. I don't want Robb thinking that I enjoy looking at him like a little girl, like a fool in love. He receives enough adoration from me during our secret meetings in Winterfell's various sheds. I don't want him and the rest of Winterfell thinking that I am a lovesick girl.

Am I truly going to be a damsel that enjoys watching her beloved training? Will I have to pretend to be charmed and amazed by his ability, when in reality I would rather be hidden away in a library, a good book in hand? I've had enough of this during the tourney. He doesn't need me to cheer him on. Sadly, his little sister doesn't seem to agree. Not wanting to slight her, not when she knows secrets she shouldn't know, I follow her, hoping that they will already have finished their training for the day by the time we get to the tiltyard.

"Come on!" Arya urges me. I can only sigh as she drags me away.

Of course, they are not done with training. As Arya drags me along, I see Robb and Jon sparring, while Theon and little Bran are sitting on the fence surrounding the training area. There are a lot of people around, but most of them are going about with their work, not paying any attention to their future lord and his brother playing with swords, even if they are not wooden. I can see a woman pushing a cart that looks to be too big for her to handle. Just as I am about to go help her, a young man does. I watch as they exchange smiles and the woman wipes her forehead while the man push the cart away. She goes into a light run when she realizes he's already gone too far away with it, calling for him to bring the cart in the other direction. I can't help but smile. North or south, people are people. It is only us, the highborn, who are raised with the notion that we are different. And how wrong we are!

My children will not grow up like that. With a Northerner for a father and a southerner for a mother, I will make sure that they know that there are no differences, even if some people like to pretend so.

I have heard many in the south say Northerners are savage, brute, unkempt and wild

And I am yet to see one person that fits that description.

As I watch Robb move around, waiting for Jon's attack, I do see traces of wildness in him. It's buried under the surface, though. He hides it well with his courtesy and honor. And honesty. Down in the South, as idyllic as it seems at times, people lie and pretend on a regular basis. We pretend all the time, pretend to be enjoying ourselves when are really bored out of our minds, pretend to enjoy the company of the person we are seated with when we really detest them. We wear masks and we wear them well. Whether you like it or not, you have to wear it. You wear it without even knowing it. I had worn one many times in my life, I know that now, when I look back. When I had sat next to Dickon Tarly during our tournament, I had pretended as if I was enjoying myself when in reality, I would gladly been cleaning up after the horses in the stables. I wore the mask for so many years, I had no choice.

But here, there's no need for that. I don't know if it's just the Starks or if this is how all Northerners are, but not once did I feel the need to pretend with them. Of course, I would bite my tongue if I was about to say something that could be considered rude, but those are my manners, not my mask. Seeing as I will be living here for the rest of my days, I can only consider it to be a truly good sign.

Despite it being a castle and the seat of the ruling house of the North, Winterfell feels… ordinary even. And it is the kind of ordinary I have yearned for, without even knowing it.

"Lady Clara!" Greyjoy's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. He roars with laughter, obviously amused with the startle he gave me. "Interested in Robb's abilities with a sword, are you my lady?" he asks and I wonder just how much of his statement has a double meaning. I probably shouldn't think about it any further.

"If you must know, I was dragged here by Arya, my lord," I tell him, noticing how both Jon and Robb are now listening to our conversation. I look down at Arya Stark, who just shrugs her shoulders, not caring at all about me outing her. She feels no guilt and shows no shame. Oh, this girl will be trouble. "Since I am already here, I might as well watch."

"Any advice for your beloved?" Theon laughs, looking at Robb and not at me. "Jon's kicking his ass, as always."

"Language, Theon," Robb warns him, completely unfazed by his comment. "Arya is present."

"If you think "ass" is the worst word I've ever heard, you know nothing Robb." Arya mumbles, making all of us laugh just a bit harder than what would be considered proper. Laughter emboldens children. If they think they are amusing us, they tend to repeat those actions, if not do something far worse. I should know, I was one of those children. I wouldn't be too surprised if I run into little Arya in a few days from now, cursing like a proper sailor.

"I'm happy to watch, Lord Greyjoy," I say, forcing a smile in Theon's direction. "However, if my beloved is looking for advice, I would advise him to loosen the grip he has on the sword." I say, watching as every head in the training area turns in my direction. Arya was looking up in confusion, Bran had no idea what was going on either, but Theon, Jon and Robb all lifted their eyebrows. I shrug my shoulders, smiling. "I know a thing or two. Loosen the grip, you'll see." I say to Robb, leaning my elbows on the fence. I smile and urge Robb to proceed with the wave of my hand. I see him smile, but judging by the veins that are popping on his arms and hands, I don't think he loosened the grip.

I, of course, really have no idea what I am talking about. If I was asked why I told him that, I would say that it is simply because that was what Oberyn told me while I was trying to use a spear. I don't know why he told me that, what my grip had to do with anything, but whenever I would listen, I would fight better, I'd be able to hold my ground for a while longer, before he would ultimately knock the spear out of my hands. That's all I have to fall back on. Well, that and the fact that I am fairly certain Loras has never held his sword as if his life was depending on it.

Jon starts to beat his brother again. When Robb looks my way, I raise an eyebrow. I am fairly certain everyone is watching our exchange because when Jon attacked his brother again and does not succeed, all heads turned to me. Robb listened to my advice and now they are all surprised I was right.

Well, Oberyn is. But I won't tell them that.

"Like I said, I know a thing or two."

One of the best things grandmother and Margaery managed to teach me is as simple as it is important: a woman must know when to walk away.

With that in mind, I smile as I step away from the fence, turning around on my heels and grinning, imagining my beloved, as Theon called him, staring at me, surprised, as I walk away.

I did make a horrible mistake. I forgot about Arya.

Now that she knows that I actually know a little bit about fighting with weapons, I am a dead woman walking.

* * *

"Six months?" I ask, looking at Lord Eddard as if he grew out another head.

"Six months," he confirms. "Five or seven, possibly."

There is a reason why I do not want to drag this out. I know my family, I know my Grandmother. I know how much can happen in six months. Seven, even! We could all die in six months, all Seven Hells can break lose in six months! Robb might change his mind in six months!

"That is too long," I protest. I am not surprised when Eddard, Catelyn, Willas and Robb all stay silent. I know they don't like it either but I appear to be only one that is speaking up. "I don't want to wait so long to get married. Why would we wait? It makes no sense at all."

"I know, Lady Clara," Lord Eddard acknowledges, looking as serious as he is kind. He has strictness around him. He might be a kind man, but he is also serious and stoic. I wonder if Robb will be like that as well, if he will lose the little rebellion he has in him now. "I see no reason for you to wait either, but that is what your family said. Your Lord Father claims it will take them a while to get everything prepared."

"My Lord Father is serving as Lady Olenna's raven," I snap, feeling the anger in me focusing on her and her alone. This is her doing. I don't need her signature on the letter to know that it is her plan. I can only wonder why. Why would she want to postpone it? I am where she wanted me to be. Why prolong it? "Besides, what sort of preparations do they plan to take on? We're planning a wedding, not another tournament. I don't need the whole of Westeros present when Robb and I say our vows."

"Father, I don't think it's necessary to wait that long," Robb agrees. The relief I feel now that he's standing up to them by my side… I needed him to back me up on this. If I am to challenge them all and demand for things to go differently, I need his help. "As far as I'm concerned, it can just be the two of us and a witness."

"Yes," I nod. Oh, how ironic is it, I am fighting for the opportunity to marry as soon as possible and I already know that when that day comes, I will be shaking like a leaf, wondering if I am making the right decision or not. "We could do it tonight. I wouldn't mind."

"You will do no such thing," Lord Eddard tells us, staring both me and his son down. He was speaking as a Lord now, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, not the father of my betrothed. "I will not slight your entire family, Lady Clara, simply because the two of you are eager to marry. Truthfully, I do not like it either. I wish we didn't have to drag this matter out, but I cannot fight your family on it. If they wish to wait, we will wait. You are young, Lady Clara," he tells me. His eyes are still narrow, but I can see kindness behind them. "You may not know it now, but if you marry without your family present, you will probably regret it."

"My Lord, if you knew my family as well as I do, you would understand why I don't need them there."

I would love for Margaery to be here to do my hair. I would love if Willas, Loras, Margaery and I could spend my last night of being a Tyrell together, drinking wine and laughing as we recall sweet childhood memories. It would be the three of them who would calm me down when my nerves kick in. After I marry, I would dance with my brothers and laugh as my sister teases me about the bedding ceremony that would be just around the corner. I would love to see my parents looking proud. Mother would cry, probably. Father would most likely stumble while he walks me towards the heart tree. Despite the complicated relationship, a part of me would even want Olenna there.

Though only a part of me. The other part knows that I would look at Olenna and be reminded that she sees my marriage and the rest of my life here as nothing more than an alliance, a part of a pact made between House Tyrell and House Stark. Seeing her would serve as a reminded that the bed I share is not shared out of love, but out of need for an heir, an heir that would secure the alliance for the years to come.

I like Robb. I want to marry him, I want to be his wife. And yes, I would like to pretend like this has nothing to do with alliances, gold, houses or promises. I don't want to think about it, I don't need to think about it. At the end of the day, when the doors close behind us, none of it will matter but the two of us. We will be man and wife just as much as Old Nan had been a wife to her husband. Marriage is marriage, no matter how high or low born the two people are. I don't need a constant reminder when it will all fall down to me and him.

As much as I would want to see my family, as much as I would love to have them present for such a special day, I do not need them to be and believe their coming will cause more chaos than its worth.

Besides, I really do not need such pomp for the wedding. I do not need to see hundreds unfamiliar faces staring at me as I become a Stark. Just like Robb said, I would be more than happy with just him and a witness. If I could, I would even get rid of the witness.

"Lady Clara, they need to be there," Catelyn speaks up, for the first time since Eddard called us all into his study. Robb and I look like children caught in a lie; scolded and educated. And Willas, who is acting as the representative of my family, is doing nothing to help us. Absolutely nothing! I thought he would stand up and say something to help my cause urging them to listen to Robb and me, but my brother does nothing. He just sits and looks as if he is contemplating something of great importance. "Whether you get along with them or not, they are your family and they must be present. If they insist on waiting, so be it."

Of course. What are they to do, start a war with my family because of a thing as stupid as a wedding date? I am one step away from suggesting eloping to Robb.

"Alright," I finally concede, knowing I can't do anything now. "We will wait."

"Good," Lord Eddard sighs, his grey gaze swiveling between his son and me. "Now, please, leave me and Lady Catelyn to speak about this." He tells us. Willas, Robb and I stand up and file out of the room. I can feel their eyes on me as we walk down the hallway. Both my future husband's and brother's gazes are burning on my back. Is it a time for me a charming bride to be, or the real Clara?

"Robb, leave me be. You do not wish to see me like this. Willas, you and I will speak of this later," I say as I turn around to face them. Robb is on uncharted territory; I can see him doing the calculations in his mind, wondering how to deal with my anger. Willas, on the other hand, knows exactly what to do. He literally takes a step backwards and Robb follows his lead. "I'm going for a walk." I inform them before marching away down the hall alone.

I found middle ground. Just now, I wasn't the charming bride to be but I also wasn't the real Clara. That being said, it was not a mask I wore. It was common curtsy. I doubt Robb would enjoy watching me in a shouting match with my brother.

The courtyard I enter is empty. I don't keep walking for long. I find a wall that doesn't really look comfortable, but I lean on it nonetheless. I slip down to the grown and put my face in my hands.

Why are they doing this? How could they benefit from it? I know very well that they don't need half a year to prepare everything and travel to Winterfell. Even if they are preparing a parade for the wedding, they wouldn't need so much time. There has to be a reason for it and I am missing it! I can't see it.

My first thought is that they are hoping on making a better match, but I quickly brush the notion aside. When I really think of it, I realize how stupid that would be. They already agreed with the Starks. I am already here and so is Willas. And who better to marry me than the future Lord of Winterfell? The North is the largest of the Seven Kingdoms, the only part where our vines haven't taken root yet. They want me here. Then why wait? Why prolong it? What am I missing?

"Clara?"

I should have known I won't be left alone to drown in my misery. I recognize Jon's voice and greet him with a sad smile, making him frown in concern.

"Good evening, Jon."

"What happened?" he asks.

"My family happened," I respond, looking down at my hands. My behind will freeze if I remain seated on the cold ground, but I can't find the strength in me to stand up. I fiddle with my fingers, too embarrassed to look at Jon. No one is supposed to see me like this, especially not a member of Robb's family. When I want to sulk and cry, I should find a more private place than a castle courtyard. "Don't worry about it, Jon. I will be well enough by morning." I tell him, not wanting his pity. I will be over this by morning too. My anger will die away and once again, I will be forced into accepting my family's opinion as my own. They might be leagues away, but they still haven't left me.

"What did they do?" he asks. I never thought of Jon as persistent but here he is, persisting.

"Meddled into things that are not related to them in any way," I say. I watch his lips turn down in a frown and I know I won't get away without giving more details. "For whatever reason, they want us to wait half a year before we get married. And Lord Stark has agreed to it."

"I understand why that would bother you but at least you're here, right?" he asks. He smiles at me. "You are here, with Robb and put family. It could have been far worse."

"Yes but…" I start, only to realize that he does have a point. It would have been much worse if I stayed at Highgarden and not had the chance to get to know Robb better. But at least I would have been home. "You have a point, I'll give you that, but why would we wait? Why make such a… fuss out of it? I do not want anything grand and neither does Robb. If both of us are saying that we want a small wedding, why is everyone not listening to us?"

"Weddings are more for a family than they are for the couple," Jon tells me, mirroring the words Willas had said to me while we were still on the road. When he laughs, I know it's because I look like a stubborn child. He sits down on the ground, leaning on the wooden cart a few feet away from me. As always, close enough to keep the conversation private, far enough to not raise any suspicions. "You know your family better than I ever will. I've seen the tourney you held; they love the pomp, don't they?" he asks and I can only look down at the ground. I might be the only member of the Tyrell family that doesn't enjoy it. Margaery and Loras need it like the air they breathe, just as our parents. Grandmother and Willas like it too, although not as much as my other two siblings. "Let them have their celebrations. At the end of it, it's all going to be down to you and Robb. It won't affect the two of you."

"If you think I don't realize I'm being unreasonable, you're wrong," I point out, fighting a smile when he starts laughing at me again. "I know very well that I should do it their way, just to make it easier for myself but… I just wish sometimes that I was nobody. You know… a daughter of a farmer or something like that. Daughter of steward or a blacksmith, with no name and no duty. Free to marry whoever I wanted, whenever I felt like."

"I feel that way too at times," he tells me and I look up at him at surprise. Again, he laughs at me. "It's better to be a low born than a lord's bastard, Clara."

"Don't talk like that, Jon."

"I know," he shakes his head. "I'm used to it now but I shouldn't be used to it at all. You've seen it. You thought it was wrong and disrespectful. Everyone does, at the start. Then they all just… join in. I'm a bastard and I can't change that, no matter how much I might want to."

"I'll never see it like that," I deny firmly. He doesn't know me well enough, he isn't even aware of how stubborn I can be. "I'll never change my mind on it. You're not treated right. I thought that before, I think that now and I will think that in the future, unless they start treating you better."

"Well, if that's true, you're a bit different than the rest of them," he shrugs. "They will still talk. Believe me, I would rather be low born than a base born bastard."

"I would suggest you ignore what people are saying, because I have been doing that my entire life. Though I am well aware that some whispers can cut quite deep," I sigh. To my complete surprise, Jon starts laughing. A proper, laugh out loud, laughter. "What did I say now?" I ask in confusion.

"Nothing," he shakes his head, still chuckling. "You're just the first person I've ever talked to that actually understands why I can't ignore it. Everyone else acts like it's the easiest thing in the world."

"I'm not going to pretend that I know your struggles," I shrug. The way I said it sounded like I know exactly what it feels like to have people talking and looking at me the way they look at him. I don't. Not to that extent. Frankly, he is handling it much better than I would have. I would have handled it very poorly, just like I handle every other difficulty I have ever encountered. "I don't know them, I will never know them. I do know you can't ignore it. I also know you have to rise above it. Which you have probably already been doing your entire life."

"You'll do well here," Jon tells me. He is changing topics as fast as Margaery changes dresses. "Our trip to Highgarden was the only time I've been south of the Neck, but I don't think all Southerners are as honest and kind as you are." He tells me. Well, I did not expect such a warm compliment.

"Thank you for that," I say with a small smile. "But Jon, we are all people. You should know that. I know what you mean and I see it too, but it is all pretend. That sister of mine you fancied?" I chuckle as he blushes. "When the door closes behind her, that perfect smile of her drops. We act and we pretend but at the end of the day, we are all just flesh and bone, with a little bit of blood to keep us going. And wine," I add, joining in on his laughter. "It is different in Winterfell. I don't think you bother with such acts up here, which is… refreshing. But even in the South, we are all just people. We might have lost touch with reality but we are still just regular people."

"That's why I think you'll do well here," he tells me. "One day, when you and Robb take over Winterfell, both of you will do a good job. I couldn't think of a better lord than my brother. I couldn't think of a better lady to stand by his side than you."

"Remind your brother of that when we have our first fight, will you?" I joke.

"He knows it, and you'll never let him forget," Jon shakes his head. "Seeing you tonight made me realize I was wrong. I thought he wanted to marry you more than you wanted to marry him. I wasn't aware how much you wanted this."

"Oh, I don't even know what I want anymore," I admit with a sigh, ignoring his laughter. He sure does enjoy laughing at my expense. I can't really blame him. I would probably die of laughter if anyone else was in my current position, and if I can give him something to laugh about at least, then I'm done with it. "As much as I like your brother, I also wanted to wait, live out my life a bit before I was thrown into somebody's arms. Then again, if I am thrown, at least he's the one to catch me." I shrug. I can't put it to words in a proper way. I have nothing against Robb. I want to marry him. But I never really wanted to get married so soon. It is the perfect mixture of duty and what I actually want out of life. It just so happens that there is more duty in me.

"You think he was planning his wedding since he was ten?" Jon questions.

Alright, he has a point. Robb probably wasn't looking forward to this any more than I was.

"I suppose it's a good think no one's asking for our opinions. We are children, we do as we're told. We dance to the beat of their drums. All of us, Robb, me, you… We simply do as we are told. I suppose we will have our time when we have children of our own."

"We will see."

"Alright, I've had enough of emotional conversations for one evening and I'm afraid my bum will freeze," I grumble. He laughs as I manage to stand up, leaning on to the wall behind me. Once I am stable enough, I turn around and offer him a smile. "Thank you for this, Jon. I wasn't even aware I needed this conversation."

"Anytime," he nods with a small smile. "Would you like me to walk you to your chambers?"

"Thank you for the offer, but I think I will walk around a bit more," I tell him. "I need to be alone with my thoughts. Have a good night, Jon."

"Good night, Clara."


	16. Chapter 16

**Here we go guys, here's another one. I don't know if I'm being paranoid, but did this story got boring to you or something? I'm not feelin' the love like I did before, I worry :(**

 **I will have a new chapter up for you soon. We will catch up with the show in two chapters, so get ready for a wild ride :D**

 **And if you think you know how this ends, I promise you, you are wrong! :D**

 **So, let me know what you think**

 **darkwolf76, my amazing beta, thank you to the moon and back 3**

* * *

"Do we even want to know what happened?" Robb asks me through laughter as I march his way. Jon and Willas are both laughing as well, which only makes my cheeks burn hotter.

"Your sister happened."

"Arya?" Robb asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Would Sansa ever be caught rolling around in dirt?" I ask.

"Never."

"There's your answer," I sigh, ignoring the raucous laughter coming from my betrothed, his brother and my own favorite sibling, though at times like these I question that preference. I had prepared myself for it, before I marched through the gates of Winterfell. When I had offered to keep an eye on Arya and spend the morning with her, I had expected a challenge and adventure. I just hadn't anticipated the amount of dirt, dust and mud that would be involved. Looking down at the skirt of my beautiful, pale blue dress, I feel horrible for the servant that will be tasked with the responsibility of washing the extensive stains out. "I always thought I was an overly energetic child but my antics pale in comparison to Arya's."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Clara," Willas teases me with that smirk of his. "When she was younger, she was called the runaway Tyrell. Septa had to chase her around the castle. To make matters worse, Margaery followed her example." He explains to Robb and Jon.

"Before she decided she prefers to be a good girl," I roll my eyes. "Trust me, my childish antics could have never held a candle to Arya's. See for yourself, if you'd like. You mind her tomorrow, and see how easy she is to keep up with.

"I doubt I would be able to keep up with her even with two good legs, let alone one." Willas jokes. I have always admired him for his ability to not act affected by his disability. I know very well that being a cripple does trouble him, even if he does not show it all the time. I know him like the palm of my hand but even I still struggle to see it at times. He is an equally good actor as Margaery. But when he does not act, he makes jokes at his own expense. Which makes him an amazing companion. Not even his jokes at my expense could ruin that.

"Well, do not judge me if you're not willing to find out," I mumble, making all three of them laugh. "What are the three of you up to? And where's the fourth member of your merry brotherhood?" I jest, using the name I gave them not that long ago. Willas, Robb, Jon and Theon have become inseparable. They spend so much time together that whenever I join them, I feel as if I should not be there, as if I am intruding on a conversation that is not meant for my ears, no matter how much they try to make me feel welcome. I suppose I would need to be a man in order to understand the male bond they have managed to build.

But just because I don't feel part of the conversation exactly doesn't make it any less interesting to watch. Not to mention how glad I am to see Willas getting on with my future family. Even Theon is a member of it, as much as I would rather not be reminded of that. Willas has adapted to Winterfell perhaps better than I have.

"Theon is… occupied." Jon tells me.

"Is he with Ros again?" I ask, raising my eyebrow, watching which one out of the three will buckle under the pressure of my stare. Willas probably won't crack, seeing as he knows how to ignore my hard stare if he truly wants to. He had years of practice. Robb, on the other hand, I am sure most certainly will if I stare at him long enough, seeing as he has a soft spot for me. If I tried really hard, I bet I could make him do anything, I believe. Which is nice to know. Even if I do not plan on using such power. And Jon seems an overall kind person who would do anything his family asks him to, so long as they ask him nicely. I stare them down, watching to see who will be the first to break.

"He's with Ros." Robb speaks up. I can't hold back my laughter. I knew it would be him.

"That poor girl," I shake my head, pretending to feel sorry for her. Actually, I am not even pretending. I do feel sorry. I can only hope that she is paid well. Then again, better Theon Greyjoy than some fat, disgusting old man. "And what are the three of you up to? Going to join them?" I joke. It truly is humorous, how one of them blushes and looked annoyed because he is my brother, how one blushes because he will one day share my bed and how the third one just blushes because he is a shy man. "What's wrong?" I laugh, watching them in shock. "Why are you so quiet and shy all of a sudden?"

"Well, you are my sister." Willas offers, looking slightly nauseated to be talking of such matters in my presence.

"And my betrothed." Robb mumbles.

"And I was drunk the last time we all talked about whores." Jon adds.

"To think that a day has come when I miss Theon Greyjoy," I chuckle to myself. "At least he doesn't go all red in the face when I say something improper. I need to get all of you drunk more often."

"We are going horse riding," Jon changes the subject quickly. "We might even go down to Winter Town. Do you want to join us?" he asks and I smile at him.

"Thank you, but I have to refuse," I shake my head. "It's going to take me hours to get myself clean after the little expedition with Arya and I don't want to keep you waiting. Have fun for me." I smile.

* * *

I knew I should have accepted their offer the moment I found myself in an embroidery lesson.

Sansa is as skilled as she is beautiful. She sits with her back straight and her chin held high, working on her fabric, sewing perfect, tiny stiches I could never really master. The more I get to know the girl, the more she reminds me of the sister I had to leave behind. Margaery and I have exchanged a few letters ever since I have arrived to Winterfell but it is simply not the same, just as I knew that it wouldn't be. At least I have her reassurance that all is well in Highgarden and that she misses me as much as I miss her. I miss Loras as well and we do write to one another but when it comes to him, at least I did not have a walking and talking reminder of him. I try to focus on the differences between my sister and future good sister so I won't miss Margeary as much. Sansa's hair is red, not brown. Her eyes are piercing blue and not green. She has less experience in life and she does not have the same calculating mind my sister does. And still, just the way she sits reminds me of Margaery.

Arya, on the other hand, is the antithesis of my sister. It looks as if someone forced her at sword point to be here.

Her hair is messy and she slouches as she bites her lip in frustration. I can't even force myself to look at her work, knowing it must be as messy as she looks.

I see myself in her. I had the same rebellious streak when I was her age and I imagine, I still have it now, in some fashion. I was never as… wild as she is but there are similarities. After all, Margaery wasn't as proper as Sansa is, not even when she was the same age as the girl is now. No, Margaery can be mischievous if she wants to and I simply do not see Sansa ever acting like that. Just as I never acted as energetic and restless as Arya does.

Margaery is capable, and easily adapts to any sort of situation she might find herself in. And she's certainly better at it than I am, always has been. Despite her abilities, I actually think that I might be in the only place in the world where I actually fit in better than she ever could. Winterfell is too dark for me and I am the gloomy sister. Margaery's bright southern light would have died up here. She would be miserable. Living here might just be the only challenge I could take on that Margaery would fail at.

Whether I like to admit it or not, I have always lived in my sister's shadow. I can't complain too much, as it was quite a nice shadow to live in. My siblings have always seen me as more and that has always been enough. Even if for everyone else, I was the less talkative Tyrell daughter, the less friendlier and polite Tyrell daughter and of course, the less beautiful Tyrell daughter. When I was a child, I did not see it. When I grew up a little bit, I started noticing it and I did not give it much thought. It was only fairly recently that I have started being bothered by it. It wasn't anything Margaery said or did. It was the dismissal by others before I even opened my mouth to speak. Even though I have decided not to give it much thought, it creeps up on me, no matter how much I had tried to fight it.

That tournament that I had despised the moment I had heard about it? It was that event that sparked the change, even if it was only in the way I saw myself. Oberyn had wanted to talk to me, not my sister. Lord Tyrion would ask for my company whilst drinking himself into oblivion, not my sister's. Ser Jaime did not dance with her once. And Robb Stark had asked for my hand in marriage, despite knowing that Margaery was promised to no one.

I am well aware that Margaery still took most of the attention and I am alright with that. The attention I have gotten has been… genuine. It had been a small victory I did not even know I needed and even so, I still miss my sister terribly.

I can't afford to worry about her. A woman with her mind, her ability and even her beauty should make a way for herself no matter the obstacles. I have more faith in her than I have in myself. She is smart enough to keep herself safe and to manage to find a straight pathway to what she wants, even if what she wants is a golden crown on her head.

She is born for it, she truly is. Just as I am born to live a simpler life, with simpler dreams, in a simpler place, practicing embroidery with my two future sisters by marriage. It might not be easy and I might struggle to get used to it all but I would never have it any other way.

One more similarity between Arya and myself: neither one of us is good at embroidery. I can be good, if I put my mind to it, but normally, I do not put much effort into it.

A knock on the door surprises us all and our surprise only grows when Lady Catelyn walks inside.

"My lady," the Septa greets her. "How may we help you?"

"I would like to speak to Lady Clara," she tells the Septa, causing my heart to skip a beat as she turns around to look at me. "Lady Clara, do you have a moment?"

"Of course," I say, setting my embroidery work aside as I stand up. I do not have any time to prepare myself for being left alone with her but perhaps that is better. If I have had time to prepare myself for a private conversation with her, I would manage to scare myself. Fear is not what I need now.

She is smiling as she closes the door behind us. With a small move of her head, she signalizes me to follow her. Taking a deep breath to call myself, I decide to follow and pretend as if I am alright.

"What is the matter, my Lady?" I ask as I walk by her side. "Did something happen?"

"Oh no, nothing has happened Lady Clara," she reassures me with a small smile. "I simply wanted to have a moment alone with you. After all, we haven't yet had a chance to talk in private. I do not know you."

"Oh," I manage to mumble in response. What does one say to that? "Well, we will hardly get to know one another with one conversation but it is a start."

Once again, my actions prove to me that Margaery should have sown my mouth shut when she had a chance. Luckily for me, Lady Catelyn just laughs lightly at my words.

"That it is," Catelyn simply smiles at me.

* * *

I am not sure if I this is uncomfortable or not. When I am nervous, I start to fidget and get anxious. I'm not like that now but I'm not enjoying this either.

We are sitting in her chambers, with a tray of cakes and some tea on the table between us. Twice, she has urged me to help myself. I thank her politely, saying how I am still full from the breakfast we had this morning. Those are the only words we have spoken so far.

I get a chance to observe Lady Catelyn at least. With lustrous long red hair like her daughter, and expressive bright blue eyes like her son, she possesses an elegant beauty that has not diminished with age. I feel traitorous for thinking it, but while my mother is still an attractive woman, her looks cannot compare to the Lady of Winterfell's. I adore my mother but my siblings and I got our looks from the Tyrell side, not from the Hightowers. But she has never been remotely ugly. In fact, with long silver hair and her tall and willowy frame, she is a beautiful woman, but Lady Catelyn simply has… something.

It isn't her looks I have paid closest attention to. I have watched as she dealt with the castle business. She leads with a firm, steady, and fair hand, and is well liked by all the small folk, just like her husband. When Lord Eddard would have to go to Winter Town or to some other village nearby, she would stay here, keeping the castle up and running until his return. The people respect her greatly, I can see that even in the way they speak to her, the way they look and smile at her as she walks by them. Here mere presence calls for the utmost respect, and even affection.

She treats her children with a caring, yet firm hand. She dotes on them and gives them affection readily, but she will also reprimand them if it is called for. I admire her for it. I wish I can say that I will have such abilities when I have children of my own but I truly believe mine will have me wrapped around their little fingers, just like Willas, Margaery, Loras and I did with our parents.

There are so many sides of Lady Catelyn Stark I respect and admire, but there are also the negative ones that are not so easy to ignore, despite how much I wish I could. The way she treats Jon seems so contradictory to her nature, and it bothers me.

I don't understand it. I have tried but I cannot. I cannot see what could force a woman, a mother to act towards someone in such a way. I have tried to look at the situation from her perspective, to imagine what it would feel like if our roles were reversed but even when I think in such away, I cannot come up with an excuse for her behavior. Jon does not deserve it. Now, he is a man grown and I imagine that her behavior is not as… toxic to him now. It pains me to think of it in such away but he must be used to it. And even with that knowledge on my mind, I cannot help but imagine a young, dark haired boy, feeling unloved and excluded by those he considered his family. I will not go as far as imagining a little Jon crying himself to sleep but the environment that he grew up in, the distaste this woman had felt for him, a little boy, could not have been a good environment for a child.

I admire Catelyn Stark, that goes without saying. But there are parts of her that I will never understand and quite frankly, do not want to understand. Understanding them would mean that I am not the person I want to be.

" _Now, you will have to decide if you want the favor of an alpha she-wolf, or of the runaway pup_ ," Willas's words repeat in my mind. I can't have it both ways. I can either put my distaste for her behavior aside or try to get to know the woman I am bound to share a home and family with for years to come or I can fight Jon's battles for him and lose.

"I was surprised when Ned told me that Robb had taken a great liking to you," she speaks up, finally breaking the silence between us. I don't know what to say to that. I do as Margaery had told me to do when I don't know what to say; I smile. "When they left for Highgarden, I was not expecting a betrothal upon their return, even though I knew that it was a possibility."

"Well, my family thought differently," I speak before I think, as I often tend to do. Once again, my impulsiveness seems to amuse her, as she laughs at my words. "No one said it out loud, especially not to me, but it was very obvious that one of the points of the tournament was to find me a husband."

"Ah, you don't have to tell me about that," Catelyn sighs, looking down at the cup of tea she is holding in her hands. "A long time ago, I was paraded around like that as well. And yet you and my son have managed to form a connection without anyone forcing you to it."

"I suppose it was luck," I shrug my shoulders. "Truly, I was playing no games, my Lady," I lie to her, knowing that me telling her about Oberyn's seduction tactics would have been the stupidest thing I had ever done. Oberyn and I will both take that to our graves. "I was simply trying to act as a host my family would be proud of. We just became friends. That's all there is."

"Lady Clara, I am not accusing you of seducing my son," Lady Catelyn laughs. I join in on the laughter. I did not seduce him, not in the way she is thinking of but I am fairly certain that Oberyn's advice did play a role in attracting Robb. Through all of that mess, I was being myself and that hasn't changed. Judging by the way he has been acting since I got here, I think his opinion of me has not changed either. It would appear that I am doing just fine, even without Oberyn whispering into my ear. "I am just amazed that with the way marriages are conducted in Westeros, the two of you are fond of one another."

"My lady, I have seen the way your Lord husband looks at you," I say, deciding it is safe enough for me to speak boldly. "When a husband looks at a wife like that after twenty whole years and five children… if that is not pure love, I do not know what is." I say, realizing that I haven't made a mistake; her smile grows.

"You are right, Lady Clara," she nods her head. "However, Ned and I barely knew one another when we were married. It took us years of hard work to get to the level of trust and love we have now. I know Robb and you are perhaps not… madly in love with one another but I can see the way you act around each other. As you have said yourself, you are friends. He truly wants to marry you. No one is compelling him to do so, not us, not his honor, not the alliance with your family."

"I know," I say, realizing I sound conceited. "I feel the same way towards him. You are right, it cannot be called love. It would be foolish to call it that yet. I imagine that it might take us years to get to it, just as it had taken you and your Lord husband. That being said, as long as he wants to marry me and start a family with me, I will happily do so. No one is making me do this either."

I am no longer sure if that is the truth or not. I did choose Robb and my family did agree to it but I am still in the dark as to whether or not he would have been their first option. Grandmother was careful not to say anything directly. Seven Hells, she even reprimanded me for considering a Northerner. I cannot say if it is my decision or if it is actually theirs but I was not forced into it. I at least helped make it. The more time I spend away from home and the more I get used to this family and this future home of mine, I am certain I will care about the reasons behind our marriage even less.

At the end of the day, it's just going to be me and him. The two of us and the relationship we have. If we get along well, I am certain our entire life and future will be smooth sailing. If we argue and bicker, I am certain it will cause trouble in other aspects of our lives. I am not focused on how my or his family might benefit from this; I am only focused on how we can benefit from this. There has to be more than just good kisses. Despite the fondness we feel for one another, it will still be a challenge. It's one thing to run around and steal kisses in sheds and another to be married and start a family together. And that is my sole purpose, my only worry. Others may feel free to bother with the rest.

"I knew my son would never pick a rotten apple," Catelyn tells me, giving me an approving smile. "Beauty isn't enough to get you through this world, Lady Clara. I am glad to see that beauty isn't all you have. A kind heart isn't enough either but I can tell your head is far from empty. My son's approval was enough for me to approve of you but now I will sleep better knowing my son will truly have a content life with his bride."

Once again, I remind myself that I can't blame her for her caution. I will probably act the same way in the future.

"I am glad."

"Run along now," she smiles at me. "I don't want to hold you from your obligations." I nod and smile as I stand up; thanking her for the conversation and the tea and cakes I did not even touch.

I stop with my hand on the doorknob. It didn't feel right. I was speaking with her honestly but I held back. I did not speak on the one matter I truly wanted to speak of. I did not fight Jon's battle.

"Lady Catelyn?" I speak up as I turn around. The woman smiles up at me, waiting for me to continue. I can feel a lump forming in my throat, choking the words back down. How do I say it? Do I say I do not agree with it and not destroy the rapport we have managed to build? Or do I simply point out that Jon's presence is lacking during out dinners in the hall?

" _Now, you will have to decide if you want the favor of an alpha she-wolf, or of the runaway pup."_

"I bid you a good day," I force a smile. Once she smiles in return, I take my leave.

I am a coward. I can't do it. I can't do it at my own expense. I will live here. She is the mother of my future husband. I will need her to teach me how to be Lady of Winterfell, she will help Robb and me raise her future grandchildren and one day, I might rule this castle with her helping me do it. I need her favor, perhaps even more than I need Robb's. I can't win Catelyn over with a few kisses and a pretty smile, can I? I'd like to think Robb's better than that but I doubt it. By the looks of it, I have more power over him than I originally thought.

I do not have that power over Lord Stark but Lord Stark is a man. To men, it's all simple, black and white. Right or wrong, good or bad. Women are complex. Women are complicated and see many shades of grey in-between. Women can be true snakes and I can say that for a fact because I am one.

I need Catelyn's favor. I need her to like me and to still think of me as a good match: for her son. If I was to share my distaste for how she treats her husband's bastard son, I might end any chance of having a good relationship with her.

Jon will have to win this fight for himself.

* * *

There are many differences between children and adults but I believe that the biggest difference is that children always absolutely stand by every word they say. Not all adults a liar. I am not a liar. But we often say one thing while we think another, and say things thoughtlessly while focused on something else. Earlier today, when I was still focused on whether or not it was the right thing to keep my opinions to myself, Bran had cornered me and made me promise that I would tell him a bedtime story later on. I had agreed, not even noticing what I was agreeing to.

When Bran had asked me during supper if I was going to keep my promise and I failed to hide my confused reaction, the disappointment on his face was visible. I still feel bad, even now as I am trying to remember what sort of stories I was told at his age. Telling a story is hardly a difficult task for me to do but the look he had… I have to think of a story good enough to make up for it.

I wait for Bran to get settled on his bed. As I wait, the door opens up and little Rickon walks in, not saying a word as he walks over and makes a place for himself right next to his older brother.

"I'm glad you could join us, Rickon," I smile at the boy, unable to control myself. I have a very strong desire to make all the Starks like me. It is going to get a little out of hand if I focus so much on the children, but Rickon truly is a small boy. He is still shy around me and he's the only one that seems to look at me with uncertainty. I'm still a stranger to him. "Will you be sleeping here, with your brother?" I ask.

He just stares at me a moment before silently borrows into the bed covers beside his brother. I guess I won't be making too much progress with the youngest Stark tonight.

"Hodor takes him to his room if he falls asleep," Bran tells me, possibly not wanting to witness how Rickon… well, he is destroying me. "We always listen to a story together. Sometimes Arya joins us. Mother usually tells us story but we wanted to hear yours tonight."

"Well, if you want me to tell you a story, you'd better make some room for me there," I smile, feeling relief as both Bran and Rickon move to the sides, so I can snuggle in between them.

It took me a while to recall a good story. The last one I heard… it had to be more than 10 years ago. Willas is my older brother and seeing as I followed his every step when we were younger, I was one of those children who enjoyed pretending to be more mature than they actually are. Therefore I gave up on bedtime stories many years ago. But I try hard to remember and the one that finally comes to my mind is the one Margaery always liked the best, the one about a prince who defeated Death.

Of course, by the end of the story, the prince becomes a king and in hindsight, I might understand now why my sister enjoyed that story in particular.

I'm not a good storyteller, I can see that now. Somehow, I am cheap on details. Our old Septa used to tell amazing stories; we would listen carefully to every word that would come out of her mouth. And Willas, seven hells, he tells the best stories. When Bran asked to tell him a bedtime story, I should have asked my brother to tell one instead. But, a promise is a promise, so here I am and I am doing my best.

"What about his sword?" Rickon speaks up and I look at the child in surprise.

"What about it?" I ask in confusion.

"What did it look like?" he asks, confirming that my stories indeed do not contain enough detail.

"Well, it was very long," I say, doing my best to imagine a sword that I have seen before, trying to recall the details like the handle or how sharped the edges looked. "It was really, really sharp. He sharpened it every day." I say, hoping that is indeed what some warriors to their swords every day.

"So it wasn't valyrian steel?" Rickon asks, looking up at me, with a frown on his sweet, little face. "Because a valyrian steel sword doesn't need to be sharpened." He tells me in a very serious tone.

"No, it was not valyrian steel. Just castle forged steel, but he still defeated Death with it." I say.

I swear to the Seven, I am holding my breath as I wait for his reaction. After a moment of no reaction at all, he gives me the smallest of smiles. A first one, I believe.

I keep on talking. Not wanting to lose the little acceptance that I have received from Rickon, I try to keep him entranced, realizing that I will probably have to make up the story as I go. I have managed to forget most of it, but as much as I have difficulty remembering details, I also have a vivid imagination.

The prince was defeating more monsters than he did years ago. He was meeting more people along his way than he did when Margaery and I heard his tale. By the time he had finally met his princess, as he was about to save her from a mountain troll, I notice that both Bran and Rickon are sound asleep. Slowly, careful not to move either one of them, I manage to slide out of the bed.

Even if Hodor is going to carry out Rickon later, I cover both of them up with the fur blanket. It is difficult not to feel a little bit of pride. Maybe I'm a better storyteller than I thought. They did fall asleep, after all. Or perhaps I have managed to bore them to sleep?

I slowly open the door of Bran's room and my heart nearly stops when I meet Robb on the other side of the door. The only relief is that he looks as frightened as I feel.

"What are you doing here?" I ask in a whisper.

"I wanted to see how you were handling them," he tells me with a small smile, leaning over to look at his little brothers. "It would appear that you have tamed the little wolves quite well."

I shrug. "Perhaps. I need to find Hodor, Rickon should be taken to his own room."

"I can do that," he reassures me, walking past me. I watch as he slowly picks up his youngest brother. Robb does not have elegant, careful movements but I feel a smile grow on my face when I notice how gentle he is with Rickon. I go before the two of them, closing the door behind us and opening the door to Rickon's room. I blow out the candles as Robb tucks him in.

"They like you," Robb tells me as he closes the door, still whispering. The door might be closed, but Rickon's room isn't the only one around. Arya or Sansa could hear us and Gods forbid if his parents heard us.

"I was certain Rickon was still frightened of me but I believe I have managed to change his mind, if only a little bit," I admit, smiling as his face lights up. "What will you do, now that I am winning over your family?" I joke.

"Celebrate," he chuckles, still keeping his voice low. "Even if you won me over a long time ago."

"Did I now?" I grin. I start giggling when he nods his head. He is making me giggle. I have never been a giggling girl and here I am now, giggling like a young, naive girl who still believes in princes who rescue her from mountain trolls. Whatever he is trying to do, it is working. When he leans over to press his lips on mine, my arms are already prepared to lock around him.

We are not going to lose control, not in a hallway. A shed is different, a stable is different. Here, in a hallway, we are not going to do anything more than a simple, gentle kiss.

I hear footsteps. Thank Gods I was careful, because I jump away from him as fast as I possibly can. It was not fast enough though. Jon is standing in the hallway, looking at us in slight confusion, his face slowly changing color. I don't think he saw anything but I doubt it's difficult for him to imagine it.

"Robb, I… I will find you later." Jon utters, trying to make a fast escape.

"No!" I speak up, causing both him and Robb to look at me at surprise. "I am going to retire for the night. The two of you can go about your business. I wish you both a good night." I mumble, trying even harder than Jon to make a quick escape.

I hold my breath right until I close the door of my guest chambers.

"What is wrong with you?" Willas asks, scaring the life out of me.

"Could you not scare me to death?" I ask, making him chuckle. "You have your own chambers, so stop hiding in mine."

"I was simply borrowing your book," Willas laughs. Now I am acting paranoid. "Alright, what is wrong with you? You are even more… moody than you normally are?"

"Nothing," I shake my head. "It's been a long day, that's all." I say, knowing that simple denial won't be enough for my brother.

"Well, whatever it is, control it. They can't see you at your worst just yet," he warns me. As much as I want to punch him for that statement, he has a point. "Good night, Clara."

I finally relax when he leaves me alone. I walk over to the bed, fall onto it and burry my face into the pillow.

Robb and I are idiots. Anyone could have walked in our little moment and it could have ended horribly. We have possibly traumatized Jon for the rest of his life but at least we know for sure that he will not say anything about it. We need to be more careful though, we truly do.

After all, I doubt I would have a particular desire of seeing Loras kissing Renly or Willas kissing the lucky Dornish girl he shared a bed with during our trip to Dorne. Some trauma can be avoided. Jon deserves better and it could have been Catelyn that walked in on that little moment. And that would have meant a world of trouble.

I need to use my brain more.


	17. Chapter 17

**Here we go guys, here's another one! I know it's been a bit of a wait, but that happens when you're not working alone. Plus, I had a pretty massive birthday party to plan so… yay!  
But, here we are, a new chapter of Power, Pleasure, Pain or how I call it, PPP. I will update soon, I'm working on the story (as well as my other stories, check them out NOW) a little bit every day.  
I will speed up a little bit, since the last few chapters have mostly been "settling in" chapters. Let me tell you, you're gonna miss those because very soon, all hell will break lose. Clara might even have a proper problem on her hands by the end of the chapter. **

**Big bow to the greatest beta ever, darkwolf76, check her stories out!**

 **Now, I leave you with this. You know the drill! Follow, Favorite and what means the most to me, review. Pretty please? I made a Kit Harington bday cake for my party tomorrow, am willing to ship a piece of it in exchange for a review? :D Joking, I can't ship abroad. But mentally, I'm giving you a piece :)  
I hope you like it, let me know what you think! :)**

* * *

Many days ago, I made the horrible mistake of agreeing to spend an entire day with Arya, completely forsaking all of my other obligations.

In reality, what kind of obligations do I even have? I am simply here to get to know the Starks. That's it. When I am not doing that, I am with my brother or I am reading books. It is not difficult for me to spend an entire day with Arya. The only real problem is that I cannot keep up with her. I adore the girl, I do, with all my heart, but her idea of fun doesn't exactly fit my idea of fun. I need to learn to think things through before making a decision; otherwise, I might not survive long into my marriage. For now, I am left to spend an entire day with little Arya Stark.

Of course, she is making me chase her around the courtyard.

"So, you've never gotten into a fight?" she asks as I struggle to keep up with her. "You are just like Sansa and all the other girls, sewing, talking about dresses?" she asks, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

"I wouldn't say I was exactly like that," I roll my eyes. I sometimes forget that young children can only see the world in black and white, extremes. Only when they're older do they learn to see the shades of grey, all the possibilities in between. "Yes, I do all of that and no, I haven't exactly learned how to swing a sword about, but I have done some interesting things. Things I should not have done. Sneaking out, running and hiding from people, playing practical jokes on my siblings… I have done it all. So no, I'm no warrior, but I'm not the proper little lady your sister is either."

Neither did I ever want to be. I have always had my own way of rebelling. I was a polite rebel, just that certain lines I would not cross under any circumstances. I truly was an odd child.

"But you said the other day," Arya persists as she jumps over the fence of the tiltyard that was, to my surprise, completely empty. "You told Robb to loosen his grip on his sword and you were right. You know how to hold a sword. How did you know that if you never trained to fight?" she asks, grabbing a wooden sword and pretending she was fighting an invisible enemy. I laugh as I lean on the fence, watching her.

"I might have done it once or twice," I admit, smiling wider when she looks at me, all wide eyed and curios as only a child could be.

"So you do know how to use a sword?"

"No, not a sword," I say, looking around for… there it is. I smile as I grab a lone spear, leaned on the bale of hay that Bran and Rickon sit on when watch their older brothers fight. I have noticed that they are not as fond of spears here as they are of their swords. Only in Dorne is a spear a weapon of choice it seems. Yet even so, the Starks have at least one spear, so I grab it.

Now I realize that it says a lot about me that I am more interested in showing off with a spear than actually using it in combat. I was adamant with Oberyn that he should teach me how to twist and turn a spear the way he did it. I suppose I could put up a decent fight, if I ever did end up in an actual combat, but I am much better at showing off. I learned it from the best.

The only reason that I am not laughing at Arya's utter look of shock is because I am completely focused on not dropping the spear, making myself look like a complete fool. The moment it is in my hand, I start to remember, very vividly, the moves and tricks Oberyn spent hours trying to teach me. I suppose it is one of those things that you do not forget. And perhaps I am not as good at it now as I was back in Dorne, when I first mastered it, but I still know how to show off properly.

I finally stop the act, laughing when I finally get a proper look at Arya's face. Another thing I should not have done; she will probably ask me to teach her. I may know a few tricks with a spear, but I can't handle it well enough to teach anyone how properly use it in combat.

"Where did you learn how to do that?"

Yet again, Jon has caught me in an awkward situation. He looks as shocked and impressed as Arya does, although I doubt he feels excited as she is.

"It is a very long story."

"And you are bloody good at it too," Jon tells me, looking down at the spear. "How?" he asks.

I shrug and give him a smile as I put a finger over my lips. He and Arya are the only ones who know and I wish to keep it that way. I do not want to become some sort of an attraction simple because I was once curious to know a few of the Red Viper's tricks. I feel relief the moment Jon smiles back at me. I turn to look at Arya, who looks no less excited than she did before. My secret is safe with them.

* * *

I jump up in surprise when the door slams open. I roll around on the bed, already knowing that it is Willas. No one else would feel comfortable with barging into my room in such a way. I am ready to criticize him, maybe throw a pillow or two on him but then I notice his eyes are wide and his breath is hitched. I seems like he was running but I know that is practically impossible because of his leg.

"Have you heard?" he asks, struggling to for breath.

"I've been in my room, reading," I shake my head. After breakfast, I had retired. I had needed some alone time, for a change. While I genuinely enjoy spending time with the Starks, I needed to be alone every once in a while. "What has happened?"

"Many things," Willas tells me as he walks over and sits on the edge of my bed. I fold the page I had been reading and set the book aside, having a horrible feeling that I will not enjoy whatever it is that Willas is about to tell me. "Winterfell is going to have guests. In about a month or so."

"Guests?" I raise my eyebrows. Suddenly, I realize what he is saying. "Have you received a raven? Are they getting ready to come to Winterfell?" I ask eagerly. It has been three months since we arrived here and it is… it is tedious. I do not want to wait any longer. However, I am willing to survive one more month. After all, four months are better than the six I was warned about.

"Oh no, it is not our family that is coming," Willas shakes his head. It doesn't matter how hard I try not to get my hopes up. It still happens, despite me trying to avoid it. And once my hopes fall, it hurts. It always does. "Not yet, at least, but I would not be surprised if they decided to come in to take part in the festivities."

"Then who is it?" I ask him, annoyed by the way he is dragging this out.

"King Robert," he tells me. Out of all the people who could have named, King Robert is the last one I would have expected to hear. "King Robert and the entire royal court. Him, the Queen, their children and the Kingsguard. They are all on their way to Winterfell."

"But… why?"

"I am unsure but I have a good guess and I don't think you're going to like it."

"Just tell me," I shake my head. At this point, I should start to develop an immunity of sorts. After everything that had happened in my life over the past few months, I doubt that anything can come as a surprise to me anymore.

"The Hand is dead," Willas shrugs his shoulders. "Do you truly think that anything other than Lord Eddard Stark would be enough to make him travel such a distance?"

"You think he will make Lord Eddard to be the new Hand of the King?" I ask in confusion.

"What else makes sense?" he asks, turning around to me. His eyes light up the way they always do whenever he talks about something he is particularly interested in. I can't blame him. Hosting a King is quite the honor, and a rather unexpected for the Starks I think. "You've heard the stories yourself, how the two of them grew up together, won the war together. They were like brothers, Lord Eddard told us himself. King Robert trusted the man with his life. Don't you think he would trust him to be his Hand as well?" Willas asks me. It does make sense. Lord Eddard does not strike me as a man of many words, not even now, but on one occasion, during one of our suppers together, Willas did manage to get him to talk about his early days. We did not hear much but we had smiles on our faces as we sipped on the wine and listen to him retelling selected stories of his youth.

"Lord Eddard would never want to leave Winterfell," I shake my head. While it does make sense for the King to ask him to do such a thing, I do not see Lord Eddard actually accepting. He is a true Northman. I do not see him choosing to go south, not even for his friend. However… he might not have a choice. "But can he say no to a King?" I mumble.

"I highly doubt it," Willas shakes his head. "If Lord Eddard leaves for King's Landing, your betrothed would become the ruling Lord of Winterfell. If his mother leaves, you know what that means. And if she is to stay, well… you will still hold more responsibility than you do now."

With my betrothed being Lord Eddard's heir, I know I will be the Lady of Winterfell one day. However, with how young and healthy both Eddard and Catelyn still are, I did not expect that to happen any time soon. Certainly not this soon.

"That might change my entire life, but how does it change anything else?" I ask.

"It doesn't," Willas shakes his head again. "You will simply presume the role earlier than you thought you would. That being said, you cannot be Lady of Winterfell if you are not married to the Lord of Winterfell. If Lord Eddard leaves for King's Landing, your wedding will have to take place sooner than we all had thought. However, it also means that you might have royal guests attending. And do you know of a particular family member of ours with a keen interest in the ruling family of Westeros?"

The wheels in my head are turning faster and faster, with each word he speaks.

They must have known Lord Eddard might be the next Hand. They couldn't have known that King Robert might be in need of a new hand quite this soon, but his previous Hand was an old man indeed. Perhaps they were hoping for it? It is a perfect opportunity for them to use my marriage as an excuse to bring Margaery closer to the King or the Prince.

It has to be it. The only question is whether or not Margaery is behind this or the Queen of Thorns.

I doubt Margaery would lose much sleep over using my wedding as one of her steps to the crown but this sounds as if it is too complicated to be her work. She is a highly skilled woman but she is hardly almighty. This has to be Olenna's work. This has to be her.

"No," I speak up, shaking my head. Willas is looking at me, confused, but I know exactly what I am saying. "I will not let them have that. I don't care. I have been used like a pawn in this game for far too long. I am here because I was a pawn. And I have had it. I don't care what it takes, if I have to run away with Robb and get married in a cave somewhere, we will not have the entire family royal family present at our wedding and I can assure you, our family with not make a parade out of it, if only for them to have some gain from it."

"And what are you going to do?" Willas rolls his eyes and doesn't even bother to hide his skepticism from me. "I do not like it either, Clara, you know that. You know I find all these political schemes and machinations foolish and ridiculous. But you cannot fight Grandmother. There's nothing you can do now that will change this course of events."

"You speak like you don't know me," I chuckle; it was stronger than me, I had to. "I was raised by one of the best and unfortunately for her, I still have a mind of my own. Just you watch me. Just you watch me, Willas. This will not go down the way Olenna Tyrell hopes it will. I will not let it, even if it is the last thing I do."

* * *

I might not know what my actual goal is but there is one thing I am absolutely sure of; I am going to need Robb's help for whatever it is. In order to get him to help me, I needed to tell him the truth though.

Telling him the complete truth would be revealing Margaery's possibly treasonous intentions. While I do not know the details her plan and she didn't specify it was a secret, I doubt she would feel comfortable with it me telling just anyone. And I do not enjoy the idea of betraying my sister's trust.

If Robb and I were a married couple, I might have told him. He would be my husband and I would hold no secrets from him. I could have trusted him, without a doubt, and I would know that he would keep the secret, even if he didn't like it. But we are not married yet and our betrothal could be broken far too easily. I would never forgive myself if I was to out Margaery to someone, only for it to end up not being worth it.

But I also can't lie to Robb. I needed to find my way around the truth, to tell him only what he absolutely needs to know and somehow not betray my sister's trust while doing so. It wasn't easy but I believe I did a good job. The only thing I did not explain is the exact reason why my entire family would like to be here at the same time as the King.

I doubt it's difficult to guess. We Tyrells are notorious for being the social ladder climbers. We have gone from mere stewards of a king to the second richest house in Westeros within just three centuries. Robb is a smart man; he can figure it out on himself, even without me pointing out the right direction to him.

"I understand what you're trying to say," Robb tells me, breaking the silence between us. We have been walking around in circles for a long time now; I needed to speak to him in private but seeing as we are followed by many curious eyes, sneaking around more would cause suspicion. The only way we can avoid it is if we act as if we are not sneaking around at all. So, we walk around the courtyard, our arms linked, while I explain everything to him with a fake smile on my face, acting as if I was just talking of the weather. No one has given us a second glance.

"But how… There is no way they could have known that King Robert might be needing a new Hand. Besides, even if they had known it, no one knows if he plans to ask my father to be his Hand or not. I know," he says once he sees my raised eyebrows. "I know and you know but I do not think your family could have been aware of it in any way."

"Perhaps you are right," I shrug my shoulders. "I can't claim that what you're saying is wrong, simply because I think they were very aware of it. It's just a suspicion I have. But I do know them quite well. You have met them but I can assure you, whatever you might think of them is exactly what they want you to think."

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," he points out, looking at me from the corner of his eye. "Are you trying to tell me something about yourself?"

I can't deny it, it's a fair question.

"Yes," I confirm. "I didn't fall far from the tree but there is a difference. What I have shown you is who I really am. I have no reason to pretend with you. Unless you are trying to tell me something?"

I don't like the way he is looking at me. I think I could deal better with a look of distaste. This… this is a look of affection. We have definitely passed the point of simply being two good friends.

"What do you wish to do about it? Is there even anything that can be done?" he asks.

"Not if we do not wish to anger both of our families," I mumble, looking down at the grown as we keep on walking. "I wouldn't mind much if we were to anger my family. They would survive and they would forgive. But I know what your lord Father's thoughts would be on this. If we were to do something reckless, he would never forgive us. I do not wish to do that."

"What exactly do you mean when you say 'something reckless'?" he asks in suspicion.

"My first thought was to grab you by the hand, make a run for it and just get married," I answer him truthfully. He already knows that is what I would feel comfortable with. I see no reason to lie about it. "If we wouldn't have to face your father's wrath, I would have already suggested it. But he is your father and he will be my family too. I cannot start my life with your family in such a way."

"Clara, you don't need me to tell you that you can't change them," he sighs. He's the one that's sighing?! "I understand why you are bothered with this but wouldn't it just be easier if we were to simply do it their way? We can handle one day. Let them have their way so we can save both of our sanities."

"One day?" I genuinely laugh at that phrase. "If you think they are going to travel all the way up here, only to leave after one night, you truly do not know them at all."

"One month then," he rolls his eyes. "If it needs to be one month, so be it. We can endure it. After that, we will be left alone. No one will meddle with our marriage after the wedding. To hell with the ceremony and pomp; the wedding is for them but the marriage will be just us. Let's do it their way and then we will enjoy a little bit of freedom?"

And that's why not telling him everything is a problem. It's not about my family keeping a close relationship with the King; that is only the first step on the ladder they wish to climb. But I can't tell Robb the whole truth, especially given that I do not know the details of the damned plan.

All of the courage and determination I have had today, when Willas barged into my room with the news, had suddenly left me. I am back to being a girl who has no other choice but to do what her family tells her to do. And the saddest thing is that I am actually lucky. They have not meddled as much or using me as they could have. In a dark and twisted way, I know that I should actually be quite thankful. Yet all I feel is anger.

"Ugh!" I snap, barely managing to stop myself from stamping my foot into the ground; such tantrums should be kept away from Robb's eyes. At least for the first few years of our marriage. "All of this is… it is just so frustrating. Neither one of us asked for this."

"No, but in order to get to what we actually asked for, we need to go through with this," he says, smiling down at me. I didn't want to smile, not with all the frustration brewing in me. But his words are so sincere, I can't help it. I realize my face must be showing of the embarrassment I feel. "It is but an obstacle. We will get past it. It will be good practice."

"There'd better not be a situation like this down the road for us because even this is getting too much for me to handle." I smile when he starts laughing, linking our arms just a bit tighter.

* * *

 _Dearest Clara,_

 _I imagine that you have probably received word of this, but I wanted to inform you of it myself. We have slowly begun preparing for our journey to Winterfell. I would like to emphasize the word slowly because I can assure you, we are nowhere near ready to leave. I it will take us weeks before we actually do._

 _It would be wonderful if we were to visit at the same time as the King. Having the King present at your wedding would be a story you could tell to even your grandchildren. Unfortunately, I fear that we will not make it on time. Unless the King decides to stay longer at Winterfell for some reason. I warned our parents and Grandmother, told them that we should not delay our departure but they have refused leave Highgarden sooner._

 _How are you? I was very happy to hear that all was going well for you the last time you wrote me and I hope that nothing has changed._

 _Yet, I do want to give you a reminder. I don't think you need one but as a good sister, I feel I should. Do not take it too far with Robb. You will know what I mean when you read this. You are both young, beautiful and I understand that you want each other in ways you have never wanted someone before but it is of the utmost importance that you remain a maiden until your wedding night._

 _I understand that it might get frustrating and that you do not wish to care for such trivial things. After all, you will share a bed with him eventually. Why not let him take what will belong to him anyways?_

 _For many different reasons, my dearest sister. Men can change their minds as fast as the wind changes direction. From the little I have gotten to know him, your future husband seems less fickle than the rest. But he's still a handsome, hot blooded young man who's the heir of a great house. Many women would give anything to be in your position, Clara. You must be careful._

 _But, more importantly, be yourself, and I don't think you will have anything to worry about. After all, you are worth the wait. If he ever says or does anything to make you falter, to make you question your decision and duty, remind him of that. And if he still does not see it in such a way… well, the fault will not be with you._

 _I simply am worrying myself and I imagine that I am worrying you as well. As I said sister, your betrothed did not seem a fickle man. He seemed to me a good man, befitting for you. And you know I am very good at reading people._

 _I do not have much to tell you about Highgarden other than that all has been well. We all feel a little bit on edge, preparing for such a long journey and grand wedding, but everything else is the same as always. Grandmother still has a sharp tongue, Mother is silent as usual, and Father is as joyful as ever. I think he is the happiest one around. He can't stop talking about the wedding and I do not think it is the alliance that makes him happy; I genuinely believe he cannot wait to give one of his daughters away. He might have his flaws but we have always been greatly loved, haven't we?_

 _It is quieter without you and Willas around, I can't deny that. The food is still fresh and the music is still loud but all of it was so much more fun with you and Willas to share it with us. Loras is keeping me company; with the two of you away, I have managed to guilt him into staying by my side instead of running off to King's Landing to be by Renly's. He might not say it as openly as I, but he misses the both of you. It seems like half the time we talk, we are talking about the two of you._

 _We will see each other soon enough. A time will come when we will have to part ways once again but do not think I will ever miss you any less than I have missed you the first day after your departure. You are my best friend, Clara. The four of us… we will weather anything and everything, always._

 _Don't forget to write to me, and tell me everything. You know I am dying to hear!_

 _Love,_

 _Margery_

Am I truly that paranoid?

I was expecting them to already be on their way and they… are not. Yes, Margaery did say that it is a shame but I had expected that she would rally them up and make them leave at once. Whatever it is that she wants to do, whatever Grandmother has in mind, it does not involve my marriage.

Well, perhaps it involves my marriage, but it does not involve my wedding.

Yet I'd felt certain they would use it. Use me. I all but insulted my own family, in front of Robb, of all people! Gods know what he thinks of them now! I only told him about their negative side. And every word I said was true, but they aren't bad people, they're very good in fact. They have an abundance of good traits, one of which is the sisterly love Margaery has always had for me, the loyalty our family has for each other. I overreacted; I might not have imagined the whole thing but it wasn't as I said it to be the. I have committed folly. It is as if I have forgotten who they truly are. And I have only been away for a few months; what will happen when I am away for a year, five years, twenty years?

No! I refuse to think about it.

I grab the second letter that arrived for me earlier; this one has a Dornish sigil on it that makes me smile instantly. I have no doubt who the author is.

 _My love,_

 _I am angry with you, to the point of pure rage. How dare you?_

 _I frown in confusion, rushing to read what exactly he thinks I have done._

 _Ever since I have left Highgarden, the thought did not leave my head. I lost sleep about it, I waited eagerly for a raven each day. It has been months! Months, my love! And I am yet to receive a wedding invitation!_

I will end that man. I do not know how or when, but I will end him.

 _Have I taught you nothing? Did you even listen to a single word I said? Your belly should have been heavy with a child already!_

 _What went wrong, my love? Why are you not married yet? When we were all together, the wolf pup seemed like he would gladly marry you at that very moment. Months have passed. You wrote me a letter, telling me that your betrothal has been finalized and that you had gone to live with his family. So why have you not taken action? Are you not the girl Oberyn Martell had taught how to seduce a man without lifting a finger?_

 _Damn it, love, you need to do better than that! He was eating out of your hand back then! Make him eat out of your hand again! You have the power to do it!_

 _Once again, I am a fool, aren't I? I am advising you when I still want you for myself. That will always be the case; I simply am respecting your decision to pursue another._

 _That being said, I would gladly open my arms to you if you ever chose to try and find happiness here in Dorne. It doesn't have to be with me; I could live with your refusal and you could live here with freedom. Dorne will always welcome you if ever you should wish it, even if you have spurned us for the cold and dark Winterfell._

 _That wedding invitation better make its way down South because I will be coming to it, invitation or not. I am willing to brave that dark, frigid land you've decided to make your home, just to see you again, and to talk with you and tease you like only I know how to do. I promise not to mention my invitation to your husband to be. I will play nice. Oberyn Martell doesn't play nice for everyone but for you my love, I will._

 _In all seriousness, tell me. What is the matter, why such a wait? I truly expected the two of you to marry as soon as possible. I hope that nothing serious has caused a delay._

 _All of the Martells told me to inform you that they miss you and wish for you to visit again. We are even willing to accept your Northern husband, if you decide to visit after the wedding. Ellaria offers her congratulations as well. Or should I say, condolences?_

 _Write me, my love. Your life is never dull. Even when it is dull, it is not dull to me. Make me laugh with your antics and troubles, even from such a distance._

 _Love,_

 _Oberyn_

I will respond to Oberyn tomorrow, as I do not have a particular desire to go into details about things I myself do not understand. I can't tell if he is simply teasing me or if there truly is some concern behind his words. I sign in exasperation as I push his letter away and grab Margaery's, ready to read again, paying careful attention to each word.

I don't think I am overly paranoid. Perhaps I am more paranoid than I should be but a healthy dose of paranoia could make the difference between life and death, as Grandmother once said, though I hope to never find myself in such extreme circumstances.

I do know that I should have kept my mouth shut. I should not have said anything to Robb. Then again, if I cannot confide in him, who can I confide in?

Everything is too confusing. I need to think.

A day will come when I will finally realize that Winterfell's courtyard isn't the right place to find a moment of peace, but it is not this day. As always, it is crawling with people and despite bowing my head down for, I am afraid that I was bound to be noticed by someone.

To my surprise, I pass the gate without attracting any attention. I'm not aware of where I am heading, not until I have gotten here. The Godswood of Winterfell does not feel any more welcoming than it did the first time I was here. I am foreign stranger from the south, and even after I marry a northerner, I will probably still remain a stranger.

But here, I have peace. I might not feel welcome but at least I will enjoy the silence for a while.

"Clara?"

So much for silence.

I turn around and offer a smile to a confused Jon. "What are you doing here?" he asks. He knows very well that these are not the Gods I pray to. Even if I haven't been praying much at all, these days.

"Had to think," I answer truthfully. "I went for a walk and I somehow ended up here. I am sorry that I interrupted you." I say.

"No, I was… I was done anyways," he tells me. Jon doesn't often have a look on his face like the one he has now. Jon is a quiet man, I have come to learn as much. When he does speak, he means what he says. He doesn't waste breath on empty words. Never before have I seen him looking as if he wanted to ask something but does not dare to do so. I feel uneasy. Why would he struggle to tell me anything? Hadn't we turned over a new leaf before we left Highgarden? "Clara, you look very worried. Is everything alright?" he finally asks. And that look is gone.

I thought I had managed to repair things between us after what can only be described like a rough start but apparently, I did not. I thought he had grown comfortable with me enough to ask anything, to talk with me on any given topic. In all honesty, I thought we had become friends. While we might be friendly to one another, it is obvious that we are not as close as I thought. A true friend would not feel uncomfortable with asking whether or not everything is alright.

"I have just…" I start, only to realize that I cannot name what is wrong. Well, I could, if I was willing to explain everything to him in fine detail. But I do not want to go through it again. "Have you ever just… completely misunderstood something?" I ask him. The look on his face tells me that I am being far too vague. "Were you ever so… absolutely sure that you were right about something, only to realize that you were completely wrong?" I elaborate.

I watch as Jon thinks on my words. "More than I'd like to admit, unfortunately."

"What do you do then?" I ask him, frowning down at the ground before me. "I was mistaken but I did not wrong anyone so there is no one I can apologize to. It's only… guilt, I suppose? Guilt from knowing that I misjudged someone completely? What do I do?" I ask him.

"I'm not sure."

"Well, what would you do?" I ask.

"I would admit to myself that I was wrong," he tells me. Well, I have already done that, haven't I? That's the problem. "I have misjudged you, you know?"

"Why am I not surprised?" I chuckle when he smiles at me.

"It's difficult not to have prejudice, I suppose," he tells me as he sits down on the same tree trunk I am sitting on. I wait for him to find the right words, knowing all too well how difficult that can be. "So many people are the same. Different faces, different names, but essentially, one in the same. I thought that of you when I first met you. I did not even think about it, it was natural. Then, with watching Robb slowly growing smitten for you," he chuckles as I shake my head, probably all red in the face. I am still not comfortable with people commenting on the obvious fondness we have for one another. "I have started to see you through his eyes. I have noticed things that make you different. You have a good heart, Clara. If you have misjudged someone or something, it is alright. Everyone makes mistakes. What makes the good ones different from the rest is the ability to acknowledge their mistakes." He tells me.

"Does that mean you are one of the good ones, seeing as you have admitted to misjudging me?"

"I wouldn't say that," he mumbles. He doesn't know how to accept a compliment and he is obviously not good at complimenting himself either. "If your opinions have not caused anyone any harm, brush yourself off and move on from it. That's what matters. You were wrong and you will probably not be wrong again."

"Well, dear Jon, it would appear that you have taken the role of my confidant right out of Willas's hands," I joke, laughing along with him. "I don't know what I'm going to do when he leaves. At least you'll be here."

"I… I am not so sure about that."

"Do you… do you have plans?" I ask in confusion. Did I miss something? Did he mentioned this before and I wasn't paying careful attention? I'm fairly certain I would be aware of Jon's plans to leave, if he had them. Apparently, I hadn't.

"Perhaps," he tells me. It is clear as day that he does not want to speak about it. I may feel comfortable enough to confide in him but he obviously doesn't feel the same. And that is alright; I can't hold that against him. "I'm heading back to the castle. Do you want to come or will you stay here a while longer?"

"I think I will stay, thank you."

I sigh as I watch Jon walk away, feeling worried about his words. I have been so focused on my pending wedding, I did not even stop to consider what I what my life would be like once the whole wedding madness is over. I will have Robb and before, I thought I would have his parents here as well. Now, with the King riding North, I am not so sure. I imagine his siblings will stay, or at least most of them. My brother will leave, despite me wanting to keep him here for good. Highgarden is his home and one day, he will rule the castle and the entire Reach. He does not belong in Winterfell, his true place is elsewhere, even if I don't want to accept it.

And now Jon comments about leaving as well, shamelessly ignoring my further questions?

By the looks of it, it truly might end up being just Robb and I, all alone, with a castle to rule.

"Well, this is a surprise," I hear a chuckle and when I turn around, I come face to face with Theon.

I still do not know what I think about this man. At times, I enjoy his company and I find his humor as a relief from daily frustrations. Whether I like it or not, he can make me laugh most of the time. But then, on different occasions, his words make me roll my eyes so often, I think I might end up straining an eye muscle or two. Everything he says has a double meaning, absolutely everything. Every word out of his mouth is a game he plays and at times, the last think I want to do is play it.

"Why say that?" I ask, raising my hand towards the Godswood before us. "You believe a different God as well. Is it that difficult to imagine that someone might just come here to enjoy the silence?"

"You aren't exactly enjoying the silence when you're talking to Jon Snow, are you?" he asks, raising his eyebrow at me. He's playing his game again. I am almost certain that he will never grow up.

"I'm sorry?" I chuckle, acting all embarrassed. "I wasn't aware that I am not allowed to have a conversation with a man that will be my kin soon enough. It shall not happen again, cross my heart." I promise, still acting all innocent and shy.

"Love, it's not me you should worry about," he warns me. Calling me love and smirking at me? Somehow, Oberyn does it so much better than he does. "People love to talk. And you are giving them more very juicy gossip to talk about."

"Are you trying to say something, Theon?" I ask. If there was any part of me that was willing to play his childish game, that part is long gone. He took it one step too far for my liking.

"Oh, it's not me that will say something," he laughs. I get up and walk closer to him. A move like that would normally intimidate someone, but it does nothing to Theon; he is still standing, tall and proud. Or should I say cocky, with that annoying smirk of his. "Sneaking around the Godswood with Lord Eddard's bastard son, brother of your betrothed? It will raise eyebrows, Clara."

"Oh, I am sure it will," I nod my head, once again feigning defeat. "And I imagine even more eyebrows will be raised if anyone thinks I am sneaking around with his ward. Especially if I come back all… shaken and in tears." I gasp, putting a hand over my heart in an overly dramatic fashion. It works.

"Are you alright?" he asks, suddenly looking alert.

"No," I shake my head, pretending as if I am having difficulty breathing. "I did nothing. I do not know what happened. All I know is that I turned around and he was there and the rest is all a blur," I gasp as tears fill up my eyes. The moment Theon starts realizing what I am doing, I stop acting and smirk at him. Two can play at that game.

Another valuable lesson I have learned. And this one I learned all on my own. I do not have Margaery guiding me through this. I might have been a successful little rebel, but even we have our bad days. Whenever I got caught in the midst of my new mischief, I used tears to get out of it. I was young and it was easy to do that. I have not used that trick in years. It's nice to know I still have it in me.

"If you're going to challenge me, be prepared for a little resistance," I warn him as I take another step in his direction; this time, he takes a step back. "I do not like to play dirty but if I must, I will not hold back, Greyjoy. If you even begin to insinuate I would even entertain the notion of doing something that would harm Robb's reputation, my own reputation or the relationship we have, I will fight back. And you should know that a Tyrell doesn't always play fair. Use your brain before you threaten me again. And at least try to make up a decent lie; not a living soul would believe what you uttered earlier."

With that, I turn around and start to walk away.

"You know how to kick and scream, Tyrell," he yells after me. "I wasn't expecting that."

"Keep it up and you'll see just how loud and strong my screams and kicks can be."


End file.
